


The One That Got Away

by apocalypsenah, Fyre



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Clash of civilisations, Complete, Gabriel (Good Omens) - Freeform, Happy Ending, Hastur - Freeform, Human Crowley, Merman Aziraphale, Michael (Good Omens) - Freeform, Part of your World especially the food, Sandalphon - Freeform, ligur - Freeform, uriel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25124365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocalypsenah/pseuds/apocalypsenah, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: For Aziraphale, life ought to be simple. Abide by the rules of the shoal, protect their hidden realm from curious humans, patrol the eastern gates and take care of any threats. And when the time comes, join the battle against humanity.The trouble is that Aziraphale rather likes human things, which is quite a problem for a merman. A fatal one if the shoal leader ever finds out. But as long as he stays out of sight of the humans and the shoal never finds out, everything will be fine.Won’t it?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 300
Kudos: 263
Collections: Good Omens Mini Bang





	1. Chapter 1

The pages had dried out, though they were warped and bubbled.

Aziraphale tentatively traced his finger across one of them, following the darker shapes and neat rows of symbols. Some had smudged and faded from the submersion, but there were enough for him to see the patterns running across the page. The cover was softer than his other books, but the symbols were much sharper

Reverently, he closed the book and wriggled up the rocky ledge to tuck it high above the waterline with the few others he had. It was a precarious ridge of rock, but he only had one narrow block of shelves and that had taken all his strength to haul out of the waves. Even now, despite his best efforts, the incoming tide still regularly submerged it, barnacles and weeds clinging to the lower half.

The seafoam was already creeping up the edge of the rocks.

It was getting late.

Aziraphale looked around his cavern with a small, forlorn sigh, then slipped off the rocks and back down into the water, diving downwards and flicking his fins. The tell-tale spot of light deep in the cave guided him out, though the channel was narrow and he winced as scales caught and scratched free against the barnacles.

Even with his limited senses, he caught the tang of his own blood on the water and hissed an inappropriate word.

The depths called and he swam as fast as he could.

If they could follow the trail of blood back and they found it, then his only refuge and hiding place would be compromised. The last thing he wanted was _that sort_ in there. He knew how they would react and had no desire to encounter the… big bugger. He thrashed his tail a little harder, clouding the water, until he had entirely obscured and scattered the trail.

The shadow of movement above him made him dart through the coral reefs, warily glancing up. His gills fluttered with gulped breaths and he blew out a stream of bubbles. Only a boat, small and fast. One of the smaller varieties of human vessels. Noisy and disturbing things, but at least they weren’t–

It stopped.

Aziraphale gave a squeak of panic, scanning around the reef and diving down, half-burying himself in the sand. Or trying to, at least. Dislodged crabs nipped at him and several plaice slapped at him indignation for stealing their spot.

“Sorry!” he hissed in reply, drawing loose wafting weed around him and cautiously peering up.

That was the trouble of seeking out caverns close to the shoreline. Humans could get a lot further out on the water now and were starting to show up in every lagoon and reef. And yet, he couldn’t _not_ go close to the shore. Those caves were the only ones that any sensible merperson would avoid, which meant less chance of his little collection being discovered.

And technically, he wasn’t meant to _hide_ from humans, but he’d never had to deal with one before. How were you meant to chase them off when they had a boat that looked as shiny and solid as rock with whirling blades attached to it?

Two flippered limbs poked through the surface of the water, then were followed by the rest of the human. Aziraphale peeped out warily. It was as sleek as a seal, though it had no weapons that he could see, and its face had one shiny big eye and a long tube sticking upwards. He had only ever seen them from a distance and never close enough to see their faces.

What a very _odd_ creature.

It started… doing something. Aziraphale could only presume it was meant to be swimming, flapping its bipedal fins and throwing up streams of bubbles. Honestly, it was going the right way to disturb everything in the reef, thrashing about like that.

It held a box in the pink tips of its forefins and held it out to different creatures on the reef. A gift? Or something else? Occasionally, it bobbed back to the surface, then flapped its way back down again. Aziraphale could hear the crabs beside him vibrating with mirth and derision.

“It’s _trying_ ,” he scolded in a soft stream of bubbles.

Still, he retreated cautiously as the human meandered closer. It didn’t seem to care about the other fish or scuttling creatures in the sand, not even giving a glance to Aziraphale’s shimmering tail. It ought to have been a relief, but Aziraphale huffed, shifting his fins, and dislodging a cloud of sand. What was more interesting? The boring sway of an anemone or an intelligent creature such as himself.

The human bubbled in alarm, flailing and disorientated in the sand cloud.

One of the crabs gave Aziraphale a pointed nip.

“What?” the merman demanded indignantly. “I couldn’t let him see me.”

Still, the little chap had a point. The human _was_ struggling.

Aziraphale chewed his lip, then darted out, making sure to toss up even more sand. He caught the human by its arms – how like Aziraphale’s own they were – and kicked strongly upwards towards the surface and the boat.

The sun blazed blindingly bright above, and Aziraphale knew he ought to dive and swim away before the human regained his senses, but he couldn’t help wondering at how warm the human’s skin was, despite its thick hide. Its arm was very thin, pointed even. It reached up and, to Aziraphale’s astonishment, ripped the tube off its face, showing a small pink mouth.

How fascinating, he thought, peering at it. Just like ours.

And the big round flat eye wasn’t a single eye at all. It had two eyes within it.

Eyes that were staring right at him.

The human rasped something and it smiled and lifted its hands and pulled off the big eye too. And peeled back its hide from its head.

Aziraphale recoiled in astonishment as a cascade of red unfurled around its face.

It must’ve noticed his surprise, because it made a face and made another sound. He stared at it and it stared back. And its eyes dipped down and he saw them widen when they skimmed his throat. His gills. He reared back and dived, plunging downwards, gulping in bubbling breaths of water.

A flash of black on the ocean bed made him hesitate.

The human’s black box.

He glanced up, then dived and scooped it up, then thrashed his tail and sped away as fast as he could, his prize clung tightly against his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

The black box was a puzzle.

Aziraphale hadn’t had the time to sneak it into his cavern, not when he was already late, but mercifully the guards at the pearl gates didn’t give him a second look as he darted by, the box hastily bundled up in scraps of seaweed. One convenient mercy of being assigned to patrol the eastern gateway meant he was among a small number of merfolk who could come and go unhindered.

As he dived down into the crevasse, he kept his eyes open, watching for the sharp-edged fins and tentacles of the Sentinels. Human objects were forbidden, unnatural gross matter in their eyes, and they would not hesitate to destroy it – and if the mood took them - anything that happened to be holding it at the time. The dozens of ancient human vessels that clung to the bottom of the deepest parts of the crevasse were testament to that.

“Aziraphale! There you are!”

A frill of bubbles burst anxiously from his gills as he whipped around.

“Gabriel!” He offered a quick and polite curl of his lips. What was _he_ doing there? Gabriel never came so close to the lip of the ridge. “This _is_ a surprise.”

Gabriel’s layers of translucent fins shimmered as he swam closer. “Gathering everyone for the council,” he said, smiling and showing a glimpse of his harmless little teeth. Funny that he seemed more of a predator than the Sentinels. “Didn’t know if you’d make it back from patrol in time. You’re coming, right?”

“O-of course.” A spark of hope caught him. “My cove! I should fetch my chain.”

Gabriel’s wide purple eyes flicked down to the bundle in his hand. “And finish your snack.” He flitted closer and patted the swell of Aziraphale’s belly with a chuckle. “As if you need it.” He swept by, vanishing in a glint of silver and violet, leaving Aziraphale clinging shakily to his prize.

Somehow, he managed to get back to his chamber in the quiet dark of the caves at the bottom of the crevasse. Bright creatures clung to the walls, shining and lighting the way, and a flick of his fins spiralled him up onto the deep ledge that he had claimed, soft strands of weed and coral rippling in the current.

He hastily tucked his burden into the depths of the anemone patch, grasped his chain – a pair of heavy links broken from a sunken ship – and hastened to the council, joining the swirling shoal of merfolk in the towering edifice. Together, they swam, their voices carrying on the bubbling floes, and Aziraphale’s heart sank, heavy as the chain in his hands.

Gabriel, at the pinnacle of the shoal, was crying out for more ruthless measures against humans that strayed into their dominion. Give them the blessing of water, he called out, let them breathe it in. Never mind that it would destroy them completely. Never mind that the Sentinels would probably make a meal of them.

Aziraphale couldn’t help thinking guiltily of the human he had given back to the air, whose black box he’d hidden in his small cove. The weight of the thought and the hefty chain in his hands dragged him deeper into the middle of the shoal, far from the seething leaders.

Decisions would be made and he wanted no part in them.

As soon as he was able, he sank down, slipping from the base of the shoal and darting back into the towering resting places. The luminescence turned his skin shimmering shades of blues and greens as he slipped back into his cove, searching the other resting places around him before he dug out the black box.

It was a strange device, flat and rectangular, with a shiny eye on one side and small raised bumps. Aziraphale peered at it, pressing the bumps cautiously. To his surprise, a shiny block lit up and he peered at it, tilting it, a rush of bubbles gushing from his gills.

The reef.

The box had captured a part of the reef!

No. No, that was absurd. The reef hadn’t changed and it couldn’t fit in this little box. He tapped some more of the bumps. Yes! More pieces of the reef! It was almost like those images that lay in some of the human ships – people flattened and hung upon walls. Did all humans preserve people and things like this?

It took him a little prodding and poking and some more little images appeared.

Aziraphale gulped a breath.

Images from the world above. Stretches of land. Rocks. A shimmering rippling surface under a ceiling of clearest, brightest blue.

And the human.

Only not as Aziraphale had seen him. Finless and hideless and pale and pink. He had trapped his own image – Aziraphale could see his long arms holding out the box, skimmed with red strands as bright as his head and speckled as if with thousands of tiny grains of golden sand.

There were several images of him. The tangle around his head turned out to be hair. Dry, it looked strangely soft, and bright as a redfish. He showed his teeth a lot, but not in a threatening way. Mirth, Aziraphale thought, peering at him with fascination. So humans could smile too? Every image in the ships had been grim and stern.

A ripple in the water made him hastily press the glowing device against his belly, rolling to his side as if in slumber. His compatriots swam passed oblivious and he held the box all the tighter. Would the human come after him? After all, he had stolen the human’s possession.

But then, humans never came near the crevasse.

He could keep it and the human would never find it. He could deliver it to his cavern, hide it there, and no one would know, not Gabriel or the Sentinels or the human. What did he care if some human had lost something? More fool the human for dropping it.

Although…

Yes, technically, he had made the human drop it.

But if he was to comply with Gabriel’s ruling, he probably should have let the poor useless creature breathe water.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” he groaned.

The next morning, as the depths of the crevasse were touched by the faintest of reflected daylight, he swam for the pearl gates and thence back towards the reef, the box safely tucked against his chest in its mantle of weeds.


	3. Chapter 3

In the pale sand of the reef, the black box stood out in sharp relief. Above the surface, the light moved lazily across the sky, the ripples shifting on the seabed, broken by cloud and wafting across the gentle sandbanks.

Aziraphale had concealed himself in the coral banks, though part of him was crying out that he really ought to just leave it and get back to his actual duties. But it would be dreadful if the human didn’t find its lost box.

And… well… if it didn’t come back, then perhaps Aziraphale would have a new object for his grotto.

With the warmer current coiling through the reef, he fluttered his gills, tucking himself snugly against the sand to catch up on sleep he hadn’t had the previous night, too intent on keeping the box hidden and safe.

The hum of an approaching vessel made him jolt awake some time later. The light had shifted, but not quite passed the middle of the day. He peered around, searching for it, and yes! There it was! The hull of the same white boat!

So he hid, waited, and the human dropped back into the water again. Its black hide had vanished. Instead, it was pale and pink, with the big eye and tube back in place and black fins back in place. And around its middle, a strange bright band of colour that wrapped around each of its lower limbs.

Aziraphale stared at it.

He had seen dozens of images of humans, but none of them were so pink and only coloured in the middle. Most of them had frills or drab, dark colouring. Nothing as colourful as…

He frowned.

Was that meant to be a warning? A threat? Something to divert predators? A horrid thought leapt to the front of his mind. Was the human trying to scare him off with his gaudy colouring? A warning that it would be poisonous if tangled with?

The human started swimming again, if its flailing could be called that. It didn’t even seem to notice its black box lying on the seabed below him, its attention entirely on the coral. Why was it so interested? Aziraphale watched, puzzled, bobbing gently along, out of sight. Did humans like coral? Did they have some use for it?

It didn’t cut any or pick any or even touch, though…

Back and forth, the human went from surface to coral and Aziraphale huffed impatiently. The black box was _there_ and it just needed to pick it up. He inched out from behind the coral, flicking the box with his fin, closer and closer to the human.

Still nothing.

He huffed, a burst of bubbles rippling around him, and snapped his tail hard.

The box curled through the water and smacked the human on the back of the head. It spun around, flailing again, and Aziraphale realised too late he was far from cover and right in front of the potentially poisonous creature he had stolen from.

The human scooped up its box, staring at it, then at Aziraphale. It pointed upwards and kicked up towards the surface.

Aziraphale hesitated. Well, he _was_ meant to find out human weaknesses, wasn’t he? Technically he could consider this reconnaissance. He flicked his tail and rose towards the surface too.

The human had already scrambled back onto his boat, but when Aziraphale cautiously bobbed closer, the human flopped to sit on a small ledge at the back. It was chattering away, but paused, cocking its head at him as if it had realised its noises made no sense.

Through an elaborate series of gestures, it seemed to be asking if he either regurgitated or made sound.

Aziraphale, despite his wariness, laughed.

That made the human’s face break into a smile. It tapped the middle of its chest. “Crowley.”

A greeting? Or an introduction? Aziraphale inclined his head and, touching his own chest, inquired, “Crowley?”

The human made a face.

Ahhh. Introduction, then.

He reached up and put his hand over the human’s. “Crowley.” He pulled the human’s hand and put it to his chest. “Aziraphale.”

“Aziraphale.” Crowley echoed.

His name sounded different on an airbreather’s lips and he wriggled, shifting his weight to brace his forearms on the ledge beside the human. “Crowley,” he said again and lifted one finger to prod the human in the middle of the chest. “Crowley.”

The human laughed, a bright and warm sound. “Friend?” he said.

Aziraphale gave him an impassive stare, uncertain. 

Crowley reached behind and pulled out a flat sheet and making markings on it with a stick, and when it held up the sheet, Aziraphale squinted.

A pictogram, it seemed. Of a human. Very rudimentary.

“Crowley,” the human explained, then scribbled again and this time, Aziraphale’s gills fluttered and he had to duck down into the water to take a deeper breath. The human had drawn a pictogram of him. Both of them side by side. “Aziraphale,” the human said gently. It added smiles to the small round heads. “Friend.”

Aziraphale stared at the image.

Was it suggesting an alliance? Or something much… much simpler and more precious? The smiles suggested happiness after all. The human’s images were simplistic, but they evoked a clear meaning.

But it was a _human_ and Aziraphale was a merman. They were _enemies_.

The human said something, jarring him from consideration of treason, and he glanced up from the pictograms. The human had something else in its hand. Round and golden and speckled with brown.

“Biscuit,” the human said, then mimed biting it. Aziraphale must have looked doubtful enough that it grinned a bit wider and took a bite. Flecks of it fell apart, dusting its wet skin, but it chewed and swallowed.

No poison or a trap…

Cautiously, Aziraphale took the biscuit and nibbled the edge. And then some more, until all at once, he was licking little specks from his fingers. He leaned in and started cleaning the specks from Crowley’s body as well, since it hadn’t noticed them.

Crowley made a surprised sound, but didn’t push him back. Instead, it offered another round golden disc.

“Biscuit,” Aziraphale declared, pleased, and took it. He reached up and tapped Crowley’s chest again. “Crowley. Friend.”


	4. Chapter 4

Aziraphale couldn’t remember the last time he’d visited his grotto.

Instead, he spent all his time at the reef with his… friend. The word made more sense now – someone you enjoyed spending time with and who would laugh with you. He remembered the smiling pictograms fondly.

“Late!” he called, as the boat hummed into the lagoon.

Crowley lowered the weight to keep the boat from drifting. “You’re early,” he called back, grinning. He sat down on the board at the back of the boat, feet dangling in the water, as Aziraphale swam closer. “I brought you a present.”

Aziraphale propped his arms on the board. “Present,” he echoed. “Gift, token…” He knocked Crowley’s hip in delight. “For me?”

The human nodded. “I have to work today,” he explained, “but I wanted you to see something fun.” He wriggled back and patted the deck. “Can you sit up here?”

Aziraphale snorted in amusement and hoisted himself easily up onto the boat. It rolled and shifted on the waves as he settled against the side. “Easy.”

Crowley blinked at him. Aziraphale had learned the expression meant a quieter kind of surprise than wide eyes. He shook himself, cleared his throat. “Your tail,” he said, as if it was the first time he’d seen it. “It won’t get too dry?”

Aziraphale took a moment to line his words up. “Not with…” He hissed through his gills and waved at the… white things. “Sky-waters.”

“Clouds?”

“Clouds!” He nodded, squirming a little to give Crowley room to step over his tail. “You have a present?”

Crowley crouched down beside him and handed him a flat object. Eye-pad, Crowley called it.

“More letters?” Aziraphale asked, excitedly. Soon, he would have enough to start understanding the books he had.

“Not today.” Crowley touched the screen. Tiny humans appeared on it, moving and walking around. Aziraphale stared, rapt. “I downloaded a couple of old films,” Crowley explained. “They’re… you know I use my camera to take an image of something?”

Aziraphale nodded. The mysterious black box was an image maker, as he’d suspected.

“A film is taking a lot of pictures and putting them together to tell a story.” Crowley unwound a length of wire and leaned close. “I need to put…” He paused, frowning. “I know you’ve got the sticky out bits, but do merfolk have ears?” He rocked back on his heels. “Must do. S’how you hear other merfolk.”

Aziraphale gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

That question, he used a _lot_. Crowley used a lot of words a lot of the time and while Aziraphale was learning quickly, he still had a long way to go.

“Let me try…” Crowley cautiously tucked the knobbled end of the wire into Aziraphale’s ear and at once, sound filled his head. Aziraphale yelped in surprise, shying away, but Crowley soothed him with a stroke of his hand down Aziraphale’s arm. “It’s like the pictures. We can copy sounds too.”

Aziraphale eyed the wire, then leaned in so Crowley could put the wire back. At once, the people on the screen had voices. They didn’t sound exactly like Crowley, but he could understand some of the words, and beamed in delight.

“You watch,” Crowley said, straightening up. “I’ll work.”

Aziraphale nodded, a gesture Crowley often used as a sign of agreement. He tucked himself against the side of the boat, holding the screen securely in both hands, and watched as tiny black-and-white people walked and talked and…oh… what was that word again? D-dancing? Dancing! Yes!

He vaguely registered the splash as Crowley went into the water, but didn’t look up.

They had an arrangement, he and the human. Crowley was doing some kind of investigation into the coral and plants in the reef. Aziraphale had agreed _not_ to chase him off in exchange for more knowledge of human things. He had even helped Crowley several times, taking him to types of foliage he hadn’t seen before, and Crowley repaid his trade in kind.

First, Crowley had given him human words, then he had started to show him human pictograms, and now…

There were sounds coming from the screen that weren’t human voices, lovely sounds that made him sway gently from side to side as the humans danced.

All at once, another sound almost made him drop the screen.

Something buzzed further up the deck. Aziraphale peered around and spotted it: Crowley’s mechanised communication device. The tell-phone. Reluctantly, he set down the screen and rolled himself over to grab at the device, studying the screen. A small face appeared on it, with letters below.

“B. E. L?” He frowned. There were more, but he didn’t recognise them.

The device went quiet, then started buzzing again. Surely, that meant it was important?

Making sure both communication device and screen were safely stowed, he scooted to the back of the boat and flopped back into the water, taking a deep gulping breath of it. Crowley was further up the reef with his camera and didn’t even notice Aziraphale’s approach until Aziraphale caught him by the shoulder.

And, yet again, Aziraphale hauled the poor coughing human to the surface.

Crowley coughed damply and pushed up his big eye. “Thanks.”

Aziraphale gave him a look. “For Heaven’s sake!” Someone in the moving-picture had used it and it sounded like a suitable term of exasperation.

Crowley burst out laughing.

Aziraphale reared back, worried. “Wrong words?”

“Right,” Crowley said, grinning. “Just didn’t expect you to say it.” He cocked his head. “Did you finish?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Your tell-phone. It makes sounds.”

Crowley’s expression changed, unhappy and closed. “Ah. Should probably get that.”

They both swam back to the boat, but Aziraphale remained in the water, soaking himself again. It was fine to be out of the water for a little bit, but his scales itched and grew too dry if he stayed out for too long.

Crowley sat down on the side of the boat with his tell-phone. Every part of him looked unhappy, his thin shoulders hunched and his face all tight lines. “Professor Bell? You called?”

As Aziraphale watched, Crowley seemed to shrink, though his voice still sounded as calm and cheerful as ever.

“No, I’m doing some more surveys. I think it’s–” He chewed his lip. “No, I know I’m overdue, but– Professor, the blooming season is much more variable than I anticipated and I need to collect more…” He hissed, sinking down to sit on the floor of the boat. “No. No, I didn’t hear back.”

Worried, Aziraphale hoisted himself up onto the boat, a fresh tide of water sluicing down around Crowley. He slid closer and cautiously reached out to carefully put his hand on the hinge of Crowley’s lower limb. Crowley gave him a watery smile.

“No,” he said, “I’ll chase it up. Yeah, I know.” He lowered the tell-phone. “Shit.”

“Bad news?” Aziraphale guessed.

His human nodded, turning his tell-phone over and over in his hands. “You know I study the coral and plants.” Aziraphale nodded. “Humans…” Crowley frowned, the way he did when he was trying to explain something Aziraphale had never heard of. “You said you patrol? Like a guard?”

“Yes.” Technically. Sort of. Even if he had been shirking his duties for at least three moons to gently harass his human.

“Do you get paid?”

They had had long and complicated discussions about human lives and something called monie. It seemed to be traded for goods or tasks. Aziraphale had tried to imagine a world where he had to collect and use such a thing.

“Oh!” He beamed. “You are doing a…oh…” He flapped his hand, trying to remember the word. “Job! You are doing a job!”

Crowley nodded. “But this kind of job is very special.” He looked down at his tell-phone. “I have to stop.”

Aziraphale’s heart plummeted fathoms. “But you have work to do,” he protested.

“I do,” Crowley agreed, “but I need money to pay for the job. Without money, I have no boat. Without money, I have no food.” He lifted his eyes to meet Aziraphale’s. “My shoal leader told me my money will stop so I will stop.”

That…

That wasn’t fair.

Crowley was happy with his work, with his boat, with his food.

Aziraphale was happy with them too.

“No!” In his shoal, there were none who would listen to him. None who would laugh. He didn’t want to see that taken away. He didn’t want to see Crowley taken away. “This monie, what is it like? Can I give you some?”

Crowley stared at him then smiled, small and sad. “Unless you’ve been hiding a sunken treasure ship from me, I don’t think so.”

A sunken treasure ship?

Aziraphale flicked his tail, thinking. “What is treasure?”

Crowley gave a little snort, the sound he made when he was humouring Aziraphale. He poked at his tell-phone, then turned the screen around and showed him images of boxes full of round shiny discs and shiny yellow chains. “That’s treasure.”

Aziraphale studied it, then nudged his arm against Crowley’s, the warmth leeching into his cooler skin. “If I can find treasure, I will pay you to do a job.”

Crowley reached up and ruffled Aziraphale’s hair. Aziraphale liked that, the simplicity of it, the warmth and playfulness. “Of course you will.”


	5. Chapter 5

Without the glistening bodies of dozens of merfolk, the council spire seemed far larger and much more austere. Faint shafts of sunlight shone down through the spires, casting patterns of light and shadow on the ripples sand of the seafloor.

Aziraphale shifted the weight of his chain his grip.

“The wrecks?” The secondary shoal leader swept around him. “Why in the waves would you want to go there?”

Aziraphale gulped in a nervous breath. He had tried to think of some logical reason, picking over his words and rehearsing them. “Well… ah… I heard… I heard rumours, you see,” he said, spiralling on the spot to follow her wide, dark eyes. “Humans. They… they like finding something called ‘treasure’. They generally find it on old wooden ships.”

“Uh-huh.” Gabriel was practically motionless compared to his second, his fins rippling gently in the current. And that didn’t even take into account to two Sentinels, barely more that swirling shadows overhead. “And where exactly are you hearing these rumours?”

Sometimes, when Crowley got flustered, he turned red. Aziraphale was ineffably relieved that he didn’t react like that.

“Um.” He gripped his chain links tighter. “Around. The– the fish on the reefs notice things. Sometimes.”

Primary and secondary exchanged looks.

“And you want to… check if there is any?” Gabriel prompted. “For the humans?”

Aziraphale hastily shook his head, then forced himself to stillness. Too human, that gesture. “I was thinking–” He began, then hesitated. “You see, they’re only looking for treasure, so if it’s _outside_ the crevasse, they won’t come down here.” He gave them a cautious, hopeful smile. “Divert there attentions elsewhere, so to speak.”

Michael drew to a halt beside Gabriel, who said, “Humans have never entered the crevasse in the past and I don’t imagine they’re going to start now.”

“They may have tried,” Michael added, smiling her unsettling little smile. Like Gabriel, she glittered, bright golds and whites, ruffed frills and spines a shimmering warning. Unlike Aziraphale, she wore her trophy from one of the ships like a diadem, shards of decorated white discs smashed and fused into a coral coronet. “But none of them escaped.”

What happened to them after that, Aziraphale didn’t even want to contemplate.

“But surely–” Aziraphale faltered at their expressions. “I mean, it can’t hurt to be on the safe side, can it? I could… scatter a few pieces here and there, out of the way.” He looked between them hopefully. “And,” he added, when they exchanged another look, “it would take some more of that _dreadful_ human stuff out of the crevasse. Surely that’s a good thing?”

A shadow passed directly overhead and he had to force himself not to look up. The two Sentinels were oppressively large and he didn’t have to see their sharp rows of teeth to know how dangerous they could be.

Gabriel glanced up. “Sandalphon?”

“Rotting filth is rotting filth, wherever it is,” the squatter of the two Sentinels rumbled.

“Ah, yes,” Aziraphale released one link of his chain to hold up a hand, “but surely rotting filth outside our home is better than inside?” He hastily caught the second link when Gabriel gave him a chilly look. “I mean, _I_ wouldn’t keep my rotting mess in my cove…” A thought came to him. “ _And_ if I do lay out the treasure, I’ll know where to find the humans to– to kill them.”

Gabriel exhaled a rash of bubbles. “Very well, Aziraphale,” he said, waving a hand, a band of metal around his wrist. He had several, depending on the importance of the gathering. Aziraphale was both relieved and offended to only merit the smallest. “Go and amuse yourself. Set some little human traps if you like.”

Aziraphale whirled away, swimming as fast as his chain would allow. Better to leave before they changed their mind.

He returned to his cove, stowing the chain, and gathered up some handfuls of luminous plankton, smearing it onto his hands and forearms. Crowley had been very particular about what humans considered treasure. Several of the wrecks in the deepest, darkest part of the crevasse had boxes that might be something of that kind.

The wrecks lay some way to the west of the occupied parts of the crevasse, resting in deep water where they had been steered after they were pulled under. Aziraphale always hated to approach them, knowing what other nasty things lurked there, but sometimes, for the greater good, one had to get ones’ hands dirty.

He swam through the moon-dappled citadel and onwards, down into the ravine. Even from the lip of it, the masts and ribs of rotting ships jutted up like claws, the shadows inside them turned to black, gaping maws that reminded him of nothing as much as the tales of the kraken.

The pressure there made him shudder as he dived downwards. He could do this, he told himself, for Crowley. To keep his friend.

Figureheads loomed up out of the dark, the pale light on his hands making their eyes shine eerily in their expressionless faces. One of them in particular he remembered with painful clarity. As he swam past her, the folds of her – oh, what had Crowley called them? Skarts? Skirts? – seemed a much more vivid shade of green than he remembered.

It had been expected of him. He could hardly have stood by and done nothing, not with the human fleet bearing down on them, seeking their destruction. They had to fight, Gabriel had roared. They had to _win_.

In the end, the fleet had sunk and fallen to the darkest depths.

Most of the ships were rotting to pieces. Even as he brushed passed, beams shifted and moved alarmingly. He darted downwards into the shattered bellies of the huge vessels. Tubes of metal and heavy round balls lay in heaps. Here and there, bones were visible. All of them tangled with weeds or grown with coral and crawling with the scuttling things of the lower deeps.

Aziraphale tried not to look at the empty eye sockets.

He splayed his hands out before him, casting the meagre light around. Boxes, there. He fumbled one open, but it was only filled with small clear vials and bottles. Another held some kinds of weapons or tools. All around, rotting, half-wasted scraps of humans lives.

Ship by ship, he made his way through the ravine.

Each was as grim and dark as the last, a veritable hell, and he hated them: an ever present reminder of the battle and the death and blood that had flooded the waves. He hated remembering the part he had played, the thought that if Gabriel had his way, it would happen again.

Another vessel, another series of quietly-creaking weed-covered rooms.

It was possible he wouldn’t find anything. The ships had been picked over before. To the victors go the spoils and all that. Every person who had fought had their trophy. He had his chain. Heavy, unwielding and a reminder of an action he would never carry out again.

He paused in another cracked doorway, staring around. Surely, he thought, surely he could find some good in the ruin, something to make things better. Something to make Crowley smile and enough to let him stay.


	6. Chapter 6

The wooden box thudded down on the deck of the boat and Aziraphale heard Crowley shout in surprise as he braced his hands on the end of the boat and launched himself up onto the deck too.

“What the hell?” Crowley exclaimed, gesturing at the weed-covered heap. “Aziraphale, what _is_ this?”

Aziraphale beamed at him. “For your job,” he said.

The human stared at him, then set down the eye-pad in his hand. “You what?”

With effort – the seaweed was old and clingy – Aziraphale wrenched the lid of the box open, the contents gleaming in the bright daylight. Crowley’s eyes went round, his mouth opening and shutting, and he squatted down beside the box.

“It’s not round treasure,” Aziraphale said hopefully, “but it _is_ shiny and it is in a box.”

Crowley picked up one of the metal blocks, smudging algae off it with his hand. It shone yellow. His hands shook. “You found this?”

Aziraphale hesitated. “There are broken ships,” he explained haltingly. “I know where.”

Crowley looked wobbly so Aziraphale gently reached out and steadied him.

“I can’t– this– you–” The human tore his eyes from the treasure to stare at Aziraphale instead. “This is too much. I can’t take it!”

He was too spiky and almost sounded angry, but his eyes showed something more like alarm. The yellow blocks must hold great value, far more than Aziraphale had realised. He reached down and closed the box, leaving only the block in Crowley’s hand.

“One?” he offered.

Crowley turned over the block in his hand. “I’ve never had a gold bar before.”

Aziraphale leaned closer, trying to remember the words from the moving picture. “Can I tempt you?”

Crowley’s eyes lifted to his and the human’s lip twitched. “You,” he said, “are a menace.” He sat down with a thump. “Yes, all right. I’ll take this one.” He turned it over and over again in his hands. “Christ, that whole box has to be worth a fortune.” He hesitated, “Should I ask where you got it?”

The thought sent a chill through him. If Crowley knew where the crevasse and ships were, if he saw them, if he _realised_. And if Gabriel and the Sentinels saw him… “Best not.” He patted the box. “I can keep this. Somewhere… safe.”

“Not back on the ships?”

Aziraphale chewed his lip. “Come with me,” he said, sliding back towards the back of the boat, hauling the box with him. “I want to show you something.” He glanced back. “Bring your breath pipe.”

When Crowley slipped into the water with his fins and pipe in place, Aziraphale led him closer to the coastline, skirting the rocks where the spray burst in white spume, and down to the narrow opening that led into his grotto. He had to heave the box ahead of him, stretching his arms out to push it through and squirm through after it.

The tide on its way out, so he set the box down and dived back, beckoning Crowley in. The human kicked helplessly, caught again and again in the gentle vortex of the withdrawing waters. Aziraphale caught his wrists and _pulled_ and Crowley burst up through the hole like a porpoise leaping.

Aziraphale bubbled a laugh as he steered the human up to the surface, taking him by the waist and hoisting him up to sit on the ledge beside the box. Crowley sat there, coughing and spluttering, and peeled off his eye-cover.

“Could’ve warned me,” he grumbled, swiping a hand over his face, then blinked, staring around. “Oh.”

Daylight was cutting through the gaps in the rock above, brightening the dim little cavern.

“D’you live here?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I… keep my things here.”

Crowley got to his feet, stepping out of his fins, and padded across the narrow ledge. He ran his fingertips along the shelves, picking up a bowl – for eating food out of, Aziraphale now knew – and laughing when he saw the metal pieces.

“You’ve got enough to have a nice dinner,” he said, waving the miniature trident. “All the cutlery and dishes.” He walked further along. “Are all of these from broken ships?”

“No.” Aziraphale hefted himself up out of the water, perching on the ledge to watch him. “When I patrol, sometimes, I find things.” He smoothed at a jarred scale, caught on the rocks on the way in. “I– the broken ships are… I don’t like it. They feel…” He frowned, trying to find a word that sounded right. “Spooky.”

Crowley laughed. “Oh, I like spooky,” he said. “Big spooky fan, me. Used to go diving for broken ships with–” He waved a hand. “Long time ago.”

Aziraphale gave him a doubtful look. “You?”

“Yes, me!” Crowley said indignantly. “I can swim very well!”

Aziraphale didn’t really need to do more than look towards the entrance to the cave. He returned his gaze to Crowley, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, shut up,” Crowley grumbled cheerfully. “It’s different, swimming in deep water with full scuba gear and trying to swim against the tide into a u-bend of a cave.” He scrambled up towards the ledge of books. “Hey! You’ve got a book shop!”

“I _do_ like books,” Aziraphale admitted. “I would like to read them one day. When I learn all my letters.”

Crowley pulled one down. “How the hell did you get a ship’s manifest for an 18th century trading ship?” he demanded in astonishment. “And how is it still in one piece?”

Ah. Yes. That one.

“I– I found it after the ship went down.” He watched Crowley cautiously, gingerly, turn the pages, as if they might turn to dust in his hand. “I found this place. I put it high up to dry.”

“It’s a miracle, that’s what it is,” Crowley murmured. He came back over and sat down. “Look, I’ll show you what it says.”

Something fluttered in the middle of Aziraphale’s chest. “You will?”

Crowley looked at him, their faces so close he could count every one of those golden grains on his skin. “Anything you like.” One side of his mouth crooked up. “Maybe not the paperback, though.”

“The… what?”

“Small book.” Crowley gestured to the rocky ledge. “Soft cover. Black and silver.”

Ah, the one Aziraphale had found abandoned on a beach one afternoon, when he was sunning himself. “Oh?” He tilted his head. “Why not?”

To his surprise, Crowley went red all across his chest and up to his hair. “Um. It’s…” He cleared his throat. “It’s what we call a romance novel.” At Aziraphale’s blank look, he rubbed at his eyes, making a small groaning noise. “Um… it’s… it’s about spawning. Mating? I don’t even know what you would call it. Or how you lot would do–”

“Oh!” Aziraphale’s gills fluttered. “Ah. Yes. No. Human… spawning is…” He shifted, smoothing at that stray scale again. He _did_ wonder how humans dealt with such things, but if it meant explaining his own kind’s mating habits without letting Crowley know he had no practical or technical knowledge of the kind… no. Best not. “We don’t– you needn’t–”

“S’fine, then,” Crowley burst out, grinning. “We’ll stick with shipping manifests.”

He opened up the book and Aziraphale leaned closer, trying not to pay attention to the warm press of the human’s bare arm against his own.


	7. Chapter 7

A few grey and dreary days had come and gone. Crowley didn’t come out on those days. Not because he didn’t want to, but because humans were sometimes wary about sailing their boats in bad weather.

Aziraphale privately didn’t see what the fuss was about. After all, the waves were hardly _that_ much bigger but Crowley couldn’t disobey the owners of his borrowed boat and Aziraphale knew better than to waste time lingering in the humanless reef when he really ought to carry out some patrols, if only to show willing.

On the fifth day, the sun returned and Aziraphale got to the reef shortly after it rose. He lazed on the seabed and watched the sky wat– the _clouds_ shifting and moving through the rippling surface of the waves.

An approaching hum made him lift his heart, but his heart stuttered in his ribs.

Wrong.

It was the wrong boat. It was something bigger and louder and he darted for the deeper part of the reef, sinking out of sight.

The boat came to a halt in Crowley’s favourite spot, but no weight was dropped to hold it there.

He could hear a voice shouting, muffled through the waves, and he inched around a rocky outcrop, keeping himself hidden as he slunk to the surface.

“–ale!” Crowley’s voice. Crowley on the deck of the bigger boat. Unlike the first, it had another level on top of the first, taller and looming, dwarfing the red-haired human leaning over the rails. “Where are you, you idiot! I can’t find you!”

Aziraphale spilled out from behind the rock, relief all over his face. “Hiding!” he shouted, then ducked under the water to increase his speed, and popped up by the new boat’s hull. Crowley peered down at him, puzzled. “New boat. Maybe strangers.”

“Oh! Right! Yes!” Crowley winced. “Didn’t think of that.” He waved a hand. “Come around the back! I have an idea!”

The new boat had a much wider board running the breadth of the back and Crowley was there to greet him, grinning. “I’ve upgraded,” he said, spreading his hands to wave around at the boat. It even had a smaller squashier boat tucked against one side, this one with a paddle and not motor. “Thought you might like to go for a ride.”

“A ride?” Aziraphale gaped at him. “ _On_ a boat?”

“Well, I can’t exactly carry you.” Crowley sat down, dangling his feet into the water. “There’s a bay a little bit up the coast. Out of the way. No one ever goes there. I thought we – well – I’ve brought a picnic and we could have it on the sand.”

“A… picnic?”

Crowley nodded. “Human food to eat out of doors. Stuff I thought you might like to try.”

Aziraphale braced his arms on the ledge. “And no other humans?”

“Not one.”

The merman chewed his lip, then nodded. He braced his arms on the board and heaved himself up, water sloshing all over Crowley who yelped and laughed, scrambling back.

“You could’ve waited,” he protested, shaking his clothes.

Aziraphale chuckled and flicked his tail, sending a torrent all over the human, soaking him from head to toe. Crowley yelped, lifting his hands to push his hair from his eyes. He had a pair of dark eye-glasses balanced on top of his head and took them off, trying to dry them on his shirt.

“You look like such an angel as well,” he said, pulling a face.

“Angel?” Aziraphale inquired.

“A good being who only does good things and kind things and _doesn’t_ throw water all over me.”

Aziraphale demurely folded his hands over his belly. “I _am_ an angel.”

Crowley made an indignant sound, gesturing to his wet clothes.

“It is a hot day,” Aziraphale replied innocently. “I was making you cool.”

Crowley snickered. “Yeah, right then, ‘angel’.” He made a strange gesture, curling two of his fingers on each hand.

“What’s that?” Aziraphale imitated him.

“When you… well… uh…” Crowley frowned. “Well, you’re not an angel, so when I do that, it means you’re not what I just said.”

“Ah!” Aziraphale made the gesture. “You’re very ‘dry’. Is that right?”

“Er…” Crowley scratched his fingers through his damp hair. “I’ll have to check.” He waved his hand further up the deck. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us going.”

It felt very peculiar to not only be on board a boat, but to feel the hum as the engine roared to life underneath him. Aziraphale wedged himself snugly into a corner, envying Crowley his feet and his ability to apparently not slide across the floor as the boat leapt forward on the waves. He groped up, clinging onto the railing that ran along the edge of the vessel, shining metal in which his panicked face was reflected – warped – back at him.

“Slow down!” he shouted up.

Crowley poked his head out of the sailing-room, which made matter so much worse! He wasn’t even looking where they were pointed! There were treacherous rocks and–

“What was that?”

“Eyes on the waves!” Aziraphale exclaimed, clinging harder to the rail. No fear of drowning, of course, but the idea of being dashed on the rocks was very inconvenient.

Crowley laughed, disappearing back into the small nook. The boat slow down a little, fine mist of spray dashing over the sides, cooling Aziraphale in the sunlight. He pulled himself up to peer over the edge of the boat, blinking in awe, as the coastline flew by. From above, the froth on the waves and the curls and ripples looked quite different.

When Crowley brought the boat to a halt, they were much further up the coastline than Aziraphale had ventured himself. The reef was safe, too hazardous for any human but those on a boat, but this place had stretches of golden sand and humans did tend to find a way to those, even if they were far from their homes.

They were inside a small lagoon, the mouth shielded by large rocks, very calm and very exposed.

“Well.” Crowley scrambled down the metal rods from the sailing box, his dark glasses in place over his eyes. “That was fun!”

“For you, maybe.” Aziraphale glanced up at him. “Is– there are no people?”

His human shook his head with a half-smile. “This place is completely cut-off. No roads. I made sure.” He nodded towards the beach. “You go on. I’ll bring the food over in a dinghy, so we don’t have soggy snacks.”

“You’re sure?” Aziraphale hesitated at the end of the boat. “No one will see?”

“No one for miles,” Crowley said, though he gave Aziraphale’s shoulder a warm squeeze. “You can wait. Swim alongside, eh?”

Aziraphale nodded, slipping into the water and helping him to lower his little boat down. It looked as if it should be heavy, but it seemed to be filled with air. He tried leaning on it once it was in the water, righting it and himself when it tipped.

“Careful!” Crowley laughed, clambering into it. He had a large white box with him, a fabric-wrapped pole under one arm, and a carrier slung on his back with straps. He paused, frowning, as the boat – dinghy? – settled. “Ah, bugger.” He twisted, peering up at the deck and the paddle.

“Ha!” Before he could stand to fetch it, Aziraphale wrapping his hand around the rope at the front of the little boat and dived. Even through the water, he heard Crowley’s garbled yelp of surprised and chuckled out a stream of bubbles as he pulled the boat towards the shore.

“Happy now?” Crowley demanded, dragging himself upright, when Aziraphale broke back through the water in the shallows.

Aziraphale gave him an innocent look. “I was _helping_.”

“Yeah, right, _angel_.”

Aziraphale huffed, fighting a smile, and flicked some water at him. Still, he dragged the little boat closer to the shallows and held it steady so Crowley could scramble out, wading up onto the pale sand. The grains clung to his skin, his feet disappearing into dents in the surface. Aziraphale watched, fascinated, as he walked.

He’d only seen Crowley scrambling on rocks and in the cave before. When he walked, it was peculiarly as if he was swimming on land, the way his body swayed. His legs crisscrossed with each step and yet they did so without tangling, like long trailing fins, moving together, instead of against one another.

A wave curled over Aziraphale and he supposed he should follow, though he knew his own venture on land would be much less graceful.

“The boat!” he called after Crowley. “What shall I do with it?”

Crowley flapped a hand, a gesture he’d learned meant ‘wait’ and – at least two lengths up the sand, beyond the waterline – he shook out a piece of cloth on the sand and set his box down. The cloth-covered pole popped open – oh how clever! – into a make-shift shelter, which Crowley propped upright in the sand. He wiggled his way back towards the water and took the rope from the dinghy.

“Can you get up to my towel? The cloth?”

Aziraphale nodded, nonplussed. “It’s very hot,” he said carefully, not wanting to upset Crowley’s plans. “I might get dry.”

“Two steps ahead of you. F’you can get to the towel, I can do the rest.”

It felt very undignified, crawling and squirming his way up the sand towards the towel, but once there, he sat up, brushing sand from his chest and fidgeting, trying not to scratch at his tail. He looked back towards Crowley, who beamed and…

Wait…

Where was his little dinghy? He still had the rope, but the little boat was…

“I’m making you a portable pool,” Crowley called.

He pulled the rope over his shoulder and the dinghy emerged from the waves, full to the brim with water. Aziraphale’s hands leapt to his gills, his breath catching, as Crowley heaved and strained, his thin arms taut and his face twisting up with effort as he tried to drag the water-filled boat up the sand.

“Give me the rope!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “You’ll break!”

“Ngh!” Crowley squeaked, though his feet were sinking into the sand and he was going red all over.

Aziraphale scooted back down the sand, uncaring of dignity, and gently but firmly pulled the rope from the poor human’s grip. With three easy twists, he dragged the dinghy to the tip of his tail, then slithered back towards the towel. It took four sets of twists and the dinghy – still half-full – was an arm’s length from the towel and safely under the shade of the miniature shelter.

“There we are,” he said, pleased, glancing up to find Crowley gaping at him. “What?”

“Ngk.” Crowley waved between him and the dinghy. “Strong!”

“Oh.” Aziraphale frowned down at his arms. “I suppose.”

He untangled the rope then – grace cast asunder – tilted himself over the side of the dinghy and into the pool of water. It wasn’t a large boat, but enough to soak a large part of his tail and scoop water onto himself.

“How’s that?” Crowley inquired, approaching.

Aziraphale beamed at him. “ _Lovely_. Thank you.” That didn’t seem enough and he fished through more of the moving pictures. “My dear? Thank you, my dear? Is that right?”

Sometimes, it was hard to read the human’s expression, but now, he was smiling widely and that, Aziraphale knew, was a sign of delight. “S’fine,” he said, then dropped down to sit on the towel and opened up the white box. “Right…” He dug about inside it and produced a smaller box. “Try these.”

Aziraphale took the box carefully, surprised by how cold it was. Inside, there were small bright red lumps, speckles with tiny yellow dots. He picked one up, tilting it curiously. “What is it?”

“It’s a fruit,” Crowley said, pouring liquid from a bottle into smaller drinking vessels. “S’called a strawberry.”

Cautiously, Aziraphale took a bite, and sharp sweet flavour burst on his tongue. “Oh!”

In moments, the small box was almost empty and his fingers were sticky and pink with juice. He peered guiltily into it, then up at Crowley.

“Er… do you want some?”

Crowley was sitting, his elbow on his upraised knee, his chin cupped in his hand. “Nah,” he said, smiling. “I like seeing how much you enjoy them.” With his other hand, he offered the cup. “Try one with some of this.”

The drink fizzed and bubbled like the fissures deep below, but curiosity got the better of Aziraphale and he took a bit, then a sip, the bubbles tickling his nose. “Mm!” The rest of the strawberries vanished with the fizzy drink. “That’s very nice!”

Crowley positively glowed and dug back into the big plastic box again. A procession of varied and delicious human foods followed and Aziraphale had to admit it was rather nice to be able to enjoy eating something without pointed and judgemental comments on his shape and size.

As he licked the stickiness of something called ‘honey’ from his fingers, he subsided back against the warm side of his temporary pool. “This is lovely.”

“Yeah.” Crowley was sprawled out on the towel, hands tucked behind his head. “Always liked this place.”

“Oh?”

“Mm.” His eyes were invisible behind his glasses, but Aziraphale could tell the human was gazing at him. “Used to have this day dream that I could have a house built here. Close enough to go diving every day. Wake up to the smell of the sea.”

Aziraphale shifted in the dinghy, propping his arms on the side. “A day dream?”

Crowley frowned in thought. “Something you would like. Something impossible. You want it, but you don’t know if you can ever get it.”

That made sense. “Like my books.”

Crowley grinned. “Yeah. Exactly.” He pushed himself to sit up. “There’s another reason I brought you here as well.”

The dinghy squeaked as Aziraphale shifted, water swirling around him. “Oh?”

Crowley poked around in his pack and pulled out a small book, so new the edges were still perfectly square and sharp. “This!” He scrambled closer, rucking up the towel underneath him. “We’re going to practise reading with real books.”

Aziraphale stared at him, then slid down under the water as much as he could, his gills frilling with deeper breaths. When he peeped back over the side of the dinghy, water running down from his hair, he smiled shyly. “Thank you.”


	8. Chapter 8

Aziraphale swirled around Crowley, peering down at the section of reef the human was currently examining. He pointed a finger at one of the waving anemones, which got a shake of the head, then to another. Crowley nodded, writing on his board and turning it around.

[Do you know where I can see more?]

Well, that was easy!

Aziraphale whipped around and led him on a spiralling circuit to the very fringes of the reef, where the shelf of the sea floor dropped away into deeper water. He dived down a couple of lengths, looking up expectantly at Crowley, pale and pink above him.

It must be dreadfully frustrating, he thought, having to rise to the surface to collect air before coming back down.

The human swam down more strongly now, examining the sprawling spread of the particular plant he was interested in. His eyes went wide behind his eye-mask and he jerked his thumb upwards before ascending. Aziraphale flicked his tail and swam up behind him, breaking through the surface a second after him.

Crowley spat out his airtube and pushed back his mask. “I knew it!” he exclaimed in delight. “I knew there was something going on with the growth patterns! The ways it’s spreading like that is–” He gave a triumphant laugh and slapped a hand on the surface of the water. “I _knew_ it!”

Aziraphale tilted his head. “This is good?”

Crowley beamed at him. “Yeah! I’ll need to do some sampling of the water and other planktons and plants nearby, but this could open a whole new avenue of research.” He must have registered the polite blankness in Aziraphale’s expression. “It’s all very, very good!”

“Ah!” Aziraphale nodded happily. “You will have to stay longer.”

He was pleased to see Crowley went pink across the cheeks.

“Well, yeah,” he said, grinning. “Obviously.”

Aziraphale ducked his head with a small smile, inwardly singing. As much as he liked helping Crowley with his ‘work’, he was privately dreading the day when the human would have no cause to come back to the reef. “That is also good.”

“Yeah?”

He raised his eyes to meet Crowley’s, his gills frilling. “Obviously,” he echoed.

Crowley showed all his teeth in his best and widest smile, the one Aziraphale liked the most. On anyone else, it might have been a threat, but Crowley only did it when he was truly pleased about something.

“I’ll need to get my proper gear,” he said, peering down into the water. “It’s a bit deeper than I can go with my snorkel.”

“Back to the boat?” Aziraphale guessed.

“Yeah.”

Aziraphale immediately patted his own shoulder. “Hold on. I can take you there fast.”

Crowley blinked in surprise. “You sure? I can swim on my own.” Aziraphale raised one of his brows in an expression he knew showed scepticism. “Oi!” Crowley laughed, splashing water at him. “Fine!” He swam a little closer and his hands were unusually cool against Aziraphale’s skin. “I’m not in the way of your tail or anything?”

A flick of Aziraphale’s tail launched them off through the water and Crowley yelped, wrapping an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders and neck, his warm chest pressing strangely against the rippling dorsal fin along Aziraphale’s spine.

Though he was a full-size human, Crowley was still very light compared to some of the weights Aziraphale had borne in the past. His weight barely slowed Aziraphale at all and his breath puffed against Aziraphale’s gills as he laughed.

“Too fast?” Aziraphale teased as fine mist sprayed over them as they cut through the waves.

“Ha!”

Aziraphale grinned. “Breathe!” he warned, then dived below, going faster still, then slammed to a halt, just as they crested the lip of the lagoon where the reef lay. A sharp tap to his chest reminded him to surface and he popped up, Crowley releasing an explosive gasp against his ear.

“Wh–” Crowley took a gasping breath. “What’s wrong?”

“Boat,” Aziraphale replied tersely. He shook off Crowley’s arms and ducked under again, assessing the vibrations through the water. He broke back through the surface. “Like your boat. Coming this direction.”

Crowley’s expression did something strange that Aziraphale hadn’t seen before and couldn’t quite understand. “Oh. Right.” He ran a hand over his face. “You should go, in case anyone sees you. Back to the weeds we were looking at, yeah?” He nudged Aziraphale's shoulder. “Go on. It’s probably just a fishing trip. I’ll…” He forced a smile. “I’ll check and make sure we’re not going to be disturbed.”

He paddled off and Aziraphale watched him go.

The expression he had made… it reminded Aziraphale of fear. Apprehension perhaps? Something like his own when called before the council. And that meant Crowley must suspect who was approaching. And he wasn’t happy about it.

Aziraphale chewed his lip, then dived, skimming the seabed and keeping close to the rocky outcrops, following Crowley in increments back towards the reef. From his hiding place, he saw the second boat roar into the reef, circling Crowley’s several times before coming to a stop.

Crowley was sitting at the back of his boat and when he smiled, it was taut and false. He also had his dark glasses back on. “Hey guys.”

Two humans appeared on the other boat, though neither of them looked as colourful as Crowley. One had darker, brown skin and black hair. The other seemed as pale as the underside of a dead fish, his hair pale thin wisps. Neither wore clothes like Crowley’s either, drab and dull.

“So this is where you slithered off to,” the shorter, darker man said. “Enjoying splashing around, are you?”

Crowley got to his feet, leaning against the rail of his boat casually. “It’s something to do, eh? What brings you out to my little science project?”

“We’re here about a… business transaction.”

“Gold,” the pale man clarified and Aziraphale’s heart sank to the seabed. The gold had brought people who made Crowley worried?

Crowley’s expression didn’t change, but Aziraphale could see how tight his thin shoulders were. “What about it? Like I told Dagon, I inherited it. My old nan. Loved the sea, she did. Must’ve just… picked it up somewhere.”

“And we know how well you took after her.” The dark one leaned on the rail of their boat. “You know why we’re here.”

“Dagon got my percentage,” Crowley said coolly. “If she didn’t pass that on, that’s up to the boss, but we have nothing to discuss. It isn’t really my scene anymore.”

“There’re laws about black markets sales of plundered treasure,” the pale man said with an unpleasant smile. “It’d be a shame if anyone heard about it, _wouldn’t it_ , Crowley?”

Crowley snorted, but his hands went tight around the rail. “You throw me in the cack, you know I can drag you down with me.”

The pale man moved as if angry, but the dark man put out an arm, stopping him. “Call it a… mutually-beneficial arrangement,” he said. “Collection or two, here and there. Nothing major. You don’t say anything about our little uplifts and we don’t say anything about yours.”

For several seconds, Crowley didn’t say anything, but Aziraphale was growing better at reading his expressions – the twitches in his jaw and the whiteness of his fingers on the rail spoke of anger that he was trying very hard to contain.

“I want Dagon’s cut back,” he said sharply. “Services or percentage. Don’t get both.”

The darker man smiled, his teeth starkly white against his skin. “Consider it a show of good faith for your… compliance.”

“Yeah. Right.” Crowley straightened up. “Why me?”

The pale man smiled unpleasantly. “They love you down there.” He glanced at his companion, who extended a hand and a folded piece of paper. “And what an opportunity to get back in the boss’s good graces after the stunt you pulled.”

“Stunt? I _quit_!”

“Exactly.” The dark man smiled like a Sentinel. He held a folded piece of paper over the gap between the boats. “Take it.”

Crowley eyed the paper as if it might bite him, but he took it. “What now?”

“You’ll receive your instructions.”

One of them went back into the boat and the engine roared to life, churning up froth in its wake. Aziraphale darted back behind the rocky outcropping, pressing against the seaweed slick rocks and slithering below the waterline, waiting until the thrum of the engine faded to nothing.

As soon as it seemed safe, he swam back around into the reef, straight to the boat.

Crowley was sitting on the deck, staring at the unfolded piece of paper, paler than Aziraphale had ever seen him. His hand shook around the page and without a thought, Aziraphale launched himself up onto the deck, sliding across until he was all but draped over the human.

Crowley yelped in surprise. “Ack!”

“I don’t like those men,” Aziraphale said fiercely, his hands braced against the side of the boat on either side of Crowley’s head. “They seemed… bad.”

Crowley’s expression went softer as he searched Aziraphale’s face. “They are, a bit,” he said, folding up the bit of paper before Aziraphale could see what was on it. “Nothing to worry about. Just some jobs an old friend needs me to do.”

He was lying and he was cold and he shivered like he was afraid.

But the last thing Aziraphale wanted to do was upset him more. Instead, he nudged his forehead against Crowley’s. “You’re cold,” he said. “Get your towel.”

Crowley glanced one way, then the other, at the arms framing him, then peered down pointedly and Aziraphale realised belatedly that his tail was pinning Crowley’s legs to the deck.

“Oh!” He scooted back. “Oh dear me!”

That made Crowley laugh and for a moment, everything seemed back to normal.


	9. Chapter 9

Crowley’s human friends didn’t come back, but sometimes, they sent him messages on his tell-phone and when they did, Crowley looked more and more unhappy.

On the third day, after another message, Crowley told him, “I won’t be coming here tomorrow. I need to go and do a job for my friends.”

“This is because I gave you treasure,” Aziraphale guessed unhappily, clinging to the end of the boat as Crowley stripped off his diving gear. “Isn’t it?”

“Nah.” The human didn’t look at him when he said it.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said in a small voice. “I heard them when they came to see you. They said gold. You gave them the yellow stick, didn’t you? That’s why they make you do this?”

Crowley sat back down at the end of the boat beside him. “It’s not because of you,” he said. “I could’ve gone through the right channels. Got it all done legally.” Off Aziraphale’s expression, he ran his fingers through his damp hair. “Right. So. There are rules in the human world: if you find a treasure, you have to tell the government. You remember what a government is?”

“The humans in charge,” Aziraphale confirmed. “Your friends are the humans in charge?”

Crowley hissed through his teeth and winced. “No. There’s…” He exhaled. “If I told the government, they would’ve taken it away, maybe for a long time. I wouldn’t have any money. I wouldn’t be able to come back here or do my work. So I went to… other people who would give me money straight away.”

“Not the people in charge.” Aziraphale sank down in the water until it frothed around his throat. “The bad people?”

Crowley nodded. “Not your fault. All me.” He patted Aziraphale’s hand where it lay beside him. “I’m impatient, that’s all.” He sighed, swaying his feet back and forth in the water. “A long time ago, I used to work for them.”

That didn’t make any sense.

“You became bad?”

“I didn’t _become_ bad,” Crowley argued, “so much as swim vaguely downwards because of them.” He gazed at Aziraphale. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but when everything has a price and you have nothing… sometimes you end up doing bloody stupid things that seem like a good idea at the time.”

He looked do dejected that Aziraphale inched sideways and propped his chin on Crowley’s knee.

“I’m meant to be guarding to stop humans coming near us,” he said, running the edge of his chin gently side to side. “You’re a human. I’m a merman. We’re on opposite sides.”

Crowley mussed Aziraphale’s pale hair with a laugh. “The way we behave, we’ll end up on our own side.”

Aziraphale flicked a handful of water up at him. “Foul fiend.”

“I swear to Christ!” Crowley burst out laughing, “I need to get you some more modern films!”

Aziraphale dropped his chin back to Crowley’s knee. “I like those ones. They’re very… fine.”

“Yeah. Suit you too, don’t they? All manners and respects and things.” He glanced at his watch and grimaced. “I need to go. I have to prepare for tomorrow.”

He started to rise, freezing when Aziraphale caught his wrist.

“You will come back?”

He tilted his hand, squeezing Aziraphale’s fingers. “Course,” he said. “You don’t get rid of me that easily. I’ll be back in two days. Three at the most.”

As Aziraphale made his way back to the crevasse, he couldn’t help thinking how the tide of his life now seemed to carry him back towards Crowley’s shore. His own kind weren’t really the sort to have friendships. Certainly, there was no one he could talk to about his collection and the things he was learning. He couldn’t even say a word about the fact he could _read_ in human now! And he had read a book! Two books, even.

It weighed him down as heavily as his chain, knowing it was a secret he would always have to keep.

That and the fear that one day he would go to the reef and Crowley wouldn’t be there…

No. No. That wasn’t worth thinking about. Two days, maybe three.

The sky was darkening above by the time he reached the pearl gates and he wove his way down to the soft luminescence of the coves. A few faces glanced out as he passed, but no one even called out a greeting as he darted upwards and to his own nook in the rocky face.

After a day on the surface, it was dark and cool and quiet. Well, comparatively quiet, without screaming gulls, engines, waves and the nearby burble of Crowley’s mask.

He tucked himself down among the anemones, curling his fingers through the fronds, trying his best not to think of the warmth of Crowley’s skin against his. Life beneath the waves was always cold, even when the currents ran warmer than usual. There was nothing like hot tea or cooked biscuits or that rather nice thing called ‘curry’.

Sleep didn’t come easily. It never had. Even the coves weren’t without their threats, but he tried, coiling on himself, the whisper of anemones on his skin and the gentle steady ripples of push-pull of the tide.

A disturbance in the water made him aware that he was no longer alone.

Aziraphale slammed back against the inner wall of his cove, the way out blocked by two figures, one slender and – oh no, no, no – one broad and vast. One of the Sentinels, sealing his way out, blocking him in, trapping him.

The slender figure opened its hands, the pale glow illuminating its face.

“Oh!” Aziraphale sagged in relief. “Gabriel. What a lovely surprise.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Well, you’re so busy these days, aren’t you?” He drifted closer, shadows stretching up behind him, as the Sentinel settled in the opening. “How’s it all going, your little human… experiment?”

“M-my what?” Aziraphale’s heart lodged in his throat.

“The things you took from the wrecks? To trap the humans?” Gabriel inclined his head. “Keep up, Aziraphale. You’re the one who suggested it.”

“Oh!” He laughed nervously, bubbles frothing from his gills. “Yes. Of course. My– my human-traps.” He forced a quick smile. “Nothing so far. Only a few boats about, but no one seems to be taking the bait yet.”

“Shame.” Gabriel tsked.

“The only dead human,” Sandalphon rumbled behind him, “is a wet human.”

Aziraphale – who had quite happily spent several days with a very soggy human – tried to school his expression, but Gabriel laughed. Of _course_ he did.

“Only dead human is a wet human,” he crowed. “Oh, that’s very good.”

“Ahaha,” Aziraphale added out of wary politeness. “Yes. Very good.” He fidgeted, gills frilling. “I– is there anything else I can help you with? I _was_ trying to have a little sleep.”

“Oh, by all means.” Gabriel closed his hands around the clump of glowing algae, though enough light eked out to make his eyes shine uncannily. “Just keeping an eye on things, Aziraphale. Don’t want you wasting your time, after all.”

“No, of course not,” he parroted back. “That would be bad.”

Gabriel swept away with a flick of his tail and the shadow of the Sentinel peeled off and followed him, the slice of his broad tail sending an icy ripple through Aziraphale’s cove. Aziraphale sank back down among the anemones, heart racing. If they ever found out what he had really done with the stolen boxes…

The last time anyone had ventured close to the surface, had been near a human and left them alive, had been _caught_ doing so…

Whispers had spread through the citadel. The horn was blown. The creature awakened.

He hadn’t seen it, but some people _had_ and had never been the same since.

Oh Lord, it didn’t bear thinking about.

Careful. He would simply have to be much more careful.


	10. Chapter 10

Crowley returned on the fourth day.

Aziraphale had spent the previous two days fretfully circling the reef and by the fourth day, he had halfway convinced himself that Crowley would never return. The hum of the engines and the sight of the familiar lovely face was such a relief that he could pretend not to notice how exhausted Crowley looked and the deep shadows under his eyes.

“You finished the job?” he inquired, circling around and bracing himself on the back of the boat.

“Yeah.” Crowley sat down on the deck. “It’s done. Kept out of trouble while I was gone?”

The Sentinel and primary flitted briefly across Aziraphale’s mind, but he pushed them away.

“No trouble,” he said. “Do you want to see your plants today? I found more for you?”

Crowley smiled crookedly. “Not today.” He patted the deck. “I thought we could work on your reading for a bit.”

Aziraphale beamed, pushing himself up out of the water and onto the deck.

The day turned so overcast that Crowley didn’t even need to fetch buckets of water to dampen his tail and together, they worked through a small stack of books that Crowley had brought with him. The subjects were strange – things called dogs and school and car – but Aziraphale couldn’t care less, as long as he could use his words.

“Oh look!” He turned over one of the pages and exclaimed in delight at a colourful picture. “A velocipede!”

“Bicycle, angel,” Crowley corrected with a tired laugh.

Aziraphale huffed. “They called this a velocipede in your tele-visual shows.”

“Fair point.” The human was leaning against the side of the boat and unless Aziraphale was mistaken, he looked as if he might be falling asleep. Under Aziraphale’s fascinated stare, he watched Crowley’s shoulders slowly relax, his breathing deepen, and his hands uncurl from knots to lie loose in his lap.

For several long minutes, Aziraphale didn’t dare move. To sleep below meant being constantly aware of a threat, no matter how near or far it may be. If he moved, then Crowley would wake and he was clearly dreadfully tired.

Cautiously, after a little time, he turned a page. That didn’t seem to stir the human, so he continued to carefully work his way through the book.

Right until Crowley made a small sound and slid sideways, dropping his head to Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale blinked down at him, but Crowley’s eye-glasses had slid up, showing his eyes were still closed. His breathing remained even.

With great care, Aziraphale lifted the eye glasses away to save them from being crushed.

Even that didn’t stir the human, who simply curled closer, something unheard of below, except with lifemates and offspring. His hair brushed – soft and warm – against Aziraphale’s skin and Aziraphale couldn’t help staring, taking note of each fine dark lash and freckle, of the curve of a half-smile even in sleep, of the heat of his skin.

All at once, Aziraphale wished the bucket was closer to hand to dampen his gills, which seemed to be frilling unnecessarily quickly.

He set aside his book and sat still and quiet. Not because he needed to, but because there was something rather… wonderful to have someone who felt so safe with him that they trusted him to watch over them while they slept.

They probably would have stayed like that until nightfall if a wave hadn’t hit the side of the boat and jolted Crowley back to wakefulness.

“Wha–?” He sat up, blinking blearily around.

“You fell asleep.” Aziraphale offered him his eye-glasses. “You must be very tired.”

Crowley rubbed at his eyes. “Yeah. A bit. Big job.” He gave Aziraphale a crooked smile. “I didn’t come all this way to fall asleep on you, though.”

Aziraphale nudged their shoulders together. “I don’t mind.”

Red bloomed on Crowley’s cheeks, but he looked pleased. “Still,” he said, rolling to his feet to fetch the bucket. “Move the books. I’ll flush you down and then we can practise your writing.”

They developed a new kind of routine as his reading and writing improved.

On the days when Crowley was absent – more jobs for his friends – Aziraphale spent time carefully seeking out areas of fresh growth in the areas near the reef and making small notes in human and the glyphs of below to keep track of any changes. On the days when he came, often tired and shadow-eyed, they would rest on the deck of the boat, comparing notes or sometimes, simply talking.

“Can’t believe you’ve never seen them,” Crowley said with a wistful sigh. He was sprawled on his back, his hair fanned across Aziraphale’s belly, and hadn’t noticed that Aziraphale was curling long red strands around his fingertips. “S’beautiful. Don’t you ever come to the surface at night?”

“Dangerous,” Aziraphale murmured. “We are forbidden.”

Crowley made a strange noise, a blart of air between his lips. “And?” He twisted around, his hair dragging free of Aziraphale’s fingers. “You’re not meant to be up here with me, are you?” He propped his arm on Aziraphale’s middle, grinning at him. “I dare you to look.”

“My dear…” Aziraphale protested. There was a difference between slipping away from one’s guard post during the day and risking the temper of the Sentinels by leaving the crevasse at night, even just to visit the surface. But Crowley didn’t know about the rules or the Sentinels or all the things that could happen to someone and the depths to which they could fall.

“You could camp out with me one night,” Crowley suggested. “On the boat or on the beach or something. Under the stars.” He painted his free hand in an arc. “As far as you can see, like specks of light all over the sky.”

“It sounds very beautiful,” Aziraphale murmured.

“It is.” Crowley rested his cheek on his hand, his elbow pressing into the swell of Aziraphale’s belly. “Do you want to? We can have a campfire if you like. Toast some marshmallows.”

Oh, he wanted to, but… but… but…

“I can’t,” he said unhappily. “We– if I did– they’d check and… well, it would be dreadful if they found out.”

Crowley nodded, but Aziraphale couldn’t help feeling he’d disappointed him.

“You know I would like to,” he offered. “But–”

“But you can’t be out and about with a human, even though you spend all your days doing it,” Crowley said dryly, sitting up.

Aziraphale huffed. “Well, it’s hardly as if you can tell _your_ friends about me either, is it?”

“That’s different!” Crowley protested. “You’d be classed as a scientific discovery! They… I dunno… put you in a zoo. Make you do tricks for food. Probably better for us if we keep this between us.” He gently nudged his arm against Aziraphale’s belly. “No one ever has to know.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I _would_ like to,” he murmured. “Maybe one day we can. Perhaps with that… camp-fire. And toast a… a marsh-mellow?”

Crowley nodded. “We’ll figure it out and when…” He paused, lifting his head. “D’you hear that?”

Aziraphale peered around, tilting his head. “What?”

“Sounds like a–” He shot to his feet and said a word he only used when he was angry or worried or had hurt himself. He leaned over the side, then clamped his hand on Aziraphale’s head and pushed him down. Before Aziraphale could protest such rough treatment, Crowley yanked a tarpaulin over him, covering him from head to tail. And – to add insult to injury – sat on him as if he was a part of the furniture.

Indignant, Aziraphale prodded him through the tarpaulin, then froze when he recognised the rumble of an engine nearby.

“Shut up!” Crowley hissed. “It’s Ligur! I’ll get rid of him.”

Aziraphale subsided, though it took him a moment more to truly appreciate Crowley’s quick thinking. If he’d slipped into the water, there was every likelihood he could have been spotted from the other boat. Hiding him in plain sight was by far more sensible. He remembered what Crowley had said – about being made into a display, something to do tricks for the humans.

The other boat purred up along beside Crowley’s. It didn’t sound so big, smaller than the last one Crowley’s friends had come on.

“Ligur!” Crowley stood up, his legs pressing against Aziraphale’s side. “Didn’t expect to see you.”

The other boat bumped gently against Crowley’s. “You know how it is. Jobs need doing.”

“Where’s Hastur? Thought you two were joined at the hip?”

The other man made a derisive sound. “Working.” Aziraphale heard the muffled rustle of paper. “New target for you. Tomorrow. We need it done quietly.”

Crowley leaned away, then back. “And you couldn’t just… send me a text? Bit pointless coming all this way just to give me coordinates.”

“You always did ask too many questions, Crowley,” Ligur said, his voice hard and cold. “Get the job done.”

“Right. Yeah.” The paper rustled again. “I’m just back from a job. Need some down time.”

“Tomorrow, Crowley,” Ligur snarled and Aziraphale shrank down beneath the tarpaulin. “No excuses.”

The boat hummed back to life and roared away.

As soon as the sound faded, Aziraphale pushed the tarpaulin away from his head, peeping out. “Is it safe now?”

Crowley nodded, staring distractedly at the paper, a frown furrowing his brow. “Well… that was a thing…”

With another push, Aziraphale wriggled free of the tarpaulin. “Lots of jobs,” he observed. “I thought you–” He flicked at his fingers in irritation, trying to remember the word. “Completed! Completed the jobs!”

“So did I.” Crowley sighed, folding the paper up and shoving it in the pocket of his shorts. “Never mind. Looks easy. Not too far and as long as it’s not too big, I should get it done in a single day.” He nudged Aziraphale’s shoulder with his knee. “D’you think you can manage on your own without me for another day?”

Aziraphale gave him a Look that he knew always made Crowley laugh. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to.”

“S’pose you will,” Crowley said, grinning crookedly. “How about some biscuits? To make it up to you?”

Aziraphale beamed. “That would be lovely!”


	11. Chapter 11

“Ahem.”

Aziraphale came awake instantly, blinking in the dawn gloom of the coves. A tiny mermaid, scarcely bigger than a spadefish fidgeted anxiously an arm’s length from his face. He peered at her, then carefully drew up. “Hello?”

She darted nearer. “I’ve been sent to request your presence in the spires.”

“Now?”

She shook her anxiously, the tangle-weed green of her hair swirling around her face. “The primary believed you would be leaving the pearl gates early. You mustn’t.” Her voice was shrill and piping, thin threads of bubbles coiling around her. “After the day begins.”

Aziraphale nodded. He had missed gatherings in the past by slipping out on his patrols early in the morning. “I’ll be there.”

When she flitted away, shimmering like silver in the pale luminescence, he ran his hands over his face. At least it would be something to do while Crowley was otherwise occupied. Though he would much rather have retreated to his cave and his – oh, what was that word? Lie-brie? – his books, anyway, he still had to play his part with the council.

By the time daylight brightened the coves, filtering down from the hollowed coral above, he had taken his time making himself ready, smoothing out any loose scales, his chain scrubbed with handfuls of coarse sand.

For a change, he was the first to reach the spires, the chain slung heavy across his shoulder.

High above, the daylight sparkled and shimmered through the surface, casting patterns across the rippled sands. He dipped down, lowering the chain to the seabed, puzzled. Gabriel was a stickler for appearances. If he arranged a gathering, he usually waited at the gateway, watching as everyone else poured in.

“Ah! There he is!”

Aziraphale whirled around, both relieved and startled. “Ah, Gabriel! I was told to be here?”

Gabriel swam closer, smiling and showing his small, even teeth. “Right you are. We’ve got things to discuss when the others get here.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale glanced around. “Where _is_ everyone?”

“They’re on their way,” Gabriel said dismissively, flitting around Aziraphale in narrowing circles. “Got to say I’m impressed, Aziraphale. You’ve been showing a lot of initiative lately. Actively setting traps for humans. Patrolling even more than usual. Very commendable.”

“Well… you know…” Aziraphale smiled nervously. “One does what one can.”

A shadow swept overhead and Aziraphale’s head whipped up.

Uriel, the leaner of Gabriel’s two Sentinels, circled overhead. It was… that was fine. They always guarded Gabriel in the spires. Nothing to be worried about, even if their black eyes were fixed on Aziraphale as if he might be the prey.

“Ah…” He turned warily back to Gabriel. “Who else are we waiting for?”

The primary hung in the current, fins rippling gently. “A few more friends of ours.” He tilted his head, gazing beyond Aziraphale. “Ah. Here they come. Better get your chain.”

Automatically, Aziraphale obeyed, ducking down to scoop up the two heavy links, and as he rose, he very nearly dropped it. Michael. And behind Michael, squirming and pinioned by the vast shape of Sandalphon, was Crowley. Behind his mask, his eyes were wide, panicked, bubbles frothing around him.

Aziraphale reared back, clinging to his chain, gills frilling. “That’s a _human_.”

“We know what it is, Aziraphale.” Gabriel was suddenly at his back, his needle-sharp spines pricking against Aziraphale’s skin. “Your little traps worked, so now, you need to finish the job.”

“F-finish the job?”

The spines stung a little deeper. “Your job,” Gabriel hissed, close to his ear. “Guardian of the eastern gate. Finish him.”

The chain felt unbearably heavy in his grip and he stared wild-eyed at Crowley. The human’s frothing bubbles had calmed and he’d stopped squirming, but he… oh, thank goodness. He was still alive. His hands moved, dropping – almost but not quite naturally – to fall to his waist, as if the fight was going out of him.

To his waist.

To…

To…

There were _things_ on his belt. Things Aziraphale had examined curiously one day when Crowley was putting on his second skin.

“Yes,” Aziraphale breathed. He pulled away from Gabriel’s hands. “Finish him.” He flicked his tail, darting closer. Right. Yes. They had… they had some small advantages, despite being in Gabriel’s territory, flanked by Sentinels, and only armed – as far as his people could see – with the hefty chain.

He met Crowley’s eyes through the mask and, to his relief, the human winked at him.

Aziraphale’s heart was in his throat.

“What do you suggest?” he said to Gabriel, without turning. He shifted the chains in his hand, blocking Crowley's body from their line of sight. Blocking his hands and the clever little knife and that rather nasty little pack the human was drawing free.

“Make him breathe, _obviously_ ,” Gabriel snapped impatiently.

Crowley’s gloved fingers tightened on his only weapons.

“Obviously,” Aziraphale murmured and nodded.

Crowley wrenched the pack at his waist and instantly, a black cloud of ink blossomed through the water, turning the day-lit cavern pitch black. Aziraphale hurled the chain up and over Crowley’s head, the weight of it dropping heavily on Sandalphon just as Crowley’s arm swung and metal met the meat of the Sentinel’s body.

Sandalphon gave a howl of pain and Crowley slammed into Aziraphale. Free!

Aziraphale flicked his tail, whipping them around and sending them hurtling up into the spires. He’d spent long enough there to know the hiding places.

Voices shouted out as they ascended through the labyrinth of passages, one of his arms around Crowley’s waist, the other blindly following the ink-smogged walls, winding his way upwards. Behind them, scuttling creatures and hands and the echo of the warning horn rang out. The shoal would be gathering.

“Quick!” Aziraphale gasped out, pulling and twisting and heading up towards the edge of the crevasse through the narrows. Too early for most to be around and no one to see them, not until they reached the gully and the drop down into the wrecks. A good hiding place. Too good. Too obvious.

Across was better, the quickest way to the edge of the crevasse.

But down was still a good hiding place would fool the others.

He pulled Crowley with him beneath the very lip of the ravine, catching his hand and tugging the knife from him. Crowley made a querulous sound, then audibly yelped when Aziraphale made four sharp cuts to pipes and straps and his air-pack on his back burst away. It surged down into the wrecks, the hiss of bubbles streaming behind it.

The human thrashed, panicked, but Aziraphale wrapped an arm tightly around him, holding him still and silent.

Gulping in a watery breath, Aziraphale forced the fluid out of his gills, retaining the air. He tore the breath-box out of Crowley’s mouth, pressing his mouth to Crowley’s and breathing fresh air into his lungs. The human clung to him, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Above them, a swarm of Sentinels surged over the lip of the ravine and dived downwards, following the coiling clouds of bubbles from far below in the dark.

In the gloom, Aziraphale stared at Crowley’s wide, dark eyes behind the mask. He tried to smile, a weak and unsteady thing, and held up one hand, making Crowley’s gesture for ‘all right’. Crowley nodded, matching it.

Aziraphale took another deeper breath. It ached, forcing out the water, the intense press of it all around him inutterly painful, but as long as Crowley needed to breathe, he would make it so.

And as the voices faded below, deep in the dark, he wrapped both arms around his human and swam across the ravine as fast as his tail would carry them.


	12. Chapter 12

They broke through into a white, cloud-smeared sky, Crowley still clinging on, but Aziraphale could feel his grip wavering, his body limp in Aziraphale’s hold. Aziraphale yanked the mask off his face, patting his cheek, trying to rouse him.

“Crowley,” he panted out, ducking his gills beneath the water to breathe more deeply. “Crowley!”

Amber eyes flickered and Crowley took a rasping gasp, his hands skittering on Aziraphale’s shoulders.

“Yes! I have you!” Aziraphale wrapped his arm more tightly around him, holding him closer. “You’re up. You’re safe.”

Crowley’s fingers hooked into his shoulders. “Land,” he rasped. “Need land.”

Of course. No small wonder if he’d been dragged to the bottom of the sea. He would want the safety of his own terrain.

“The beach?” Aziraphale suggested. “Where we–”

“People.” Crowley’s voice was shrinking. “Need… need people. Doctors.”

Panic frilled out Aziraphale’s gills. “I-I can’t take you on land.” He patted Crowley’s cheek gently, trying to rouse him again. “Crowley, I _can’t_.”

The human’s head lolled forward, face dipping back into the water and he didn’t lift it.

“No!” Aziraphale lifted him up higher, his own body shaking with the prolonged exertion. “No, don’t you dare!” He dragged Crowley around onto his back, pulling the human’s limp arms over his shoulders, and took several deep breaths.

Humans.

He needed humans.

There were plenty of beaches up and down the coast where humans came during the day. If he could get him to the shoreline, let the current carry him in, would that be enough?

Did it matter?

He had to _try_.

Gripping Crowley’s wrists in his hands, he struck out. Graceless and clumsy with the human’s limp legs catching against his tail, but better than bobbing there and waiting to see if he might be all right. Trying to keep his head above water grew harder with every mile, gills frilling against the water and Crowley a dead weight on his back.

No, not dead weight.

Small huffed breaths against his skin. Still alive.

Ahead, he could see one of the beaches popular with families and those noisy four-limbed hairy creatures that liked splashing about in the water. More chance for him to be found there, even if it meant risking being seen.

“Not far, my dear,” Aziraphale rasped, pulling the human further up his back. “Not far now.”

It became easier once he reached the curve of the bay, the waves catching them and pushing them towards the shore. He felt Crowley’s head twitch against the back of his and the feeble kick of his legs on either side of Aziraphale’s tail.

“Good,” he panted, another sweep of his tail driving them into the shallows. “Good.”

The sand and shingle scraped against his belly, but he released one of Crowley’s hands, dragging them further and further up, until they were shallow enough for him to tip Crowley off his back and onto the sand without the threat of drowning.

“Crowley?”

Crowley’s eyes were unfocussed, far darker than usual. “All right?” he croaked.

Aziraphale’s lip trembled, his hands shivering as he peeled off the hood of Crowley’s black suit. “I should ask you that,” he said, far more sharply than he intended. Lord, he was so pale, his lips strangely blue. “I– how do I help you, darling? What can I do?”

Crowley managed to grasp his wrist. “Trap,” he breathed.

“What?”

“Trap.” Crowley jerked onto his side, bringing up water, coughing wetly. “Your people. Waiting.”

Aziraphale’s heart plummeted. They knew. They must have known all along. Watched. Spied. Waited. But that didn’t explain how they found out where he would be. “You’re safe now,” he soothed, rubbing Crowley’s back gently.

The human sagged back, staring up at him. “Not you.”

“Me?”

“Not safe.” He nudged his wrist against Aziraphale’s hand. “M’watch. Take it. Hide. Cave. Stay safe.”

“Watch?”

Crowley nudged the blocky thing fastened on his wrist against Aziraphale’s arm. “Watch.”

Aziraphale nodded at once, unfastening it with shaking fingers. He fumbled it around his wrist, trying his best to fasten it in place. Why he needed it, he didn’t know. Why Crowley wanted him to have it, he couldn’t be sure. There had to be a reason.

“Crow–”

A wild burst of noise made him flinch and he looked around in panic.

Something small and hairy pelted towards him on four limbs, a fifth waving wildly behind it.

“Oh!” he yelped in dismay, trying to fend it off, but it didn’t seem to be attacking, licking at him and at Crowley, who gave a gurgling laugh.

“Dog!” Another human voice froze him on the spot. “Come back, you silly dog!”

“Go!” Crowley rasped, nudging him. “Safe now!”

Aziraphale pushed the animal back and pressed his palm to Crowley’s cheek. “I’ll wait for you.”

Crowley gave him a weak smile, his eyes slipping shut again and Aziraphale scrambled back towards the receding waves.

“Scuse me!” The strange human voice yelled. “Are you a mermaid?”

Aziraphale glanced back, too startled by the question to flee. A pale-haired, pale-skinned young human was dashing down the sand, a dark-haired, dark-skinned one running right behind it.

“Don’t be stupid,” the darker of the pair said. “It’s a he! He doesn’t have seashells!” They paused when they spotted Crowley, sprawled and limp on the sand, and the darker one exclaimed, “Oh my god! It killed someone!”

“He’s not dead!” Aziraphale exclaimed, scrambling back into the waves. “Help him! Please!”

As the waves curled over him, he heard the pale boy yell, “Don’t worry! We’ll help him!”

And Aziraphale let the riptides catch him, sweeping him back out into the sea.


	13. Chapter 13

The sky had turned darker by the time Aziraphale reached the safety of the lagoon and his cave, his whole body aching and tense with fatigue and worry.

Crowley had to be safe. The young humans had him, which meant they would be able to help in ways Aziraphale couldn’t. And, at least, he was out of the reach of Aziraphale’s people. None of them could get to him on land.

As he squirmed his way into his cave, Aziraphale’s thoughts were racing.

Crowley insisted it had all been a trap, but how could that be? Had they perhaps been following Aziraphale and then set someone to follow Crowley? No. No, they wouldn’t have waited, if that was the case. But did that mean that there were some means, some back channel, that meant a human was providing information to them?

Or – and the thought made him shiver – perhaps someone from his own side had provided the information to the humans.

He hoisted himself out of the water, curling on the sharp ledge, gills rippling as he coiled in on himself. Fine spray dashed off the rocks, sheening him gently, and he closed his eyes, clinging to Crowley’s watch, and trying to think.

The man who had brought the message for Crowley – hadn’t Crowley said it was unusual for him to come alone? Hadn’t he said that it would be easier to send messages on their tell-phone? Why was this message different? Because he knew he would be sending another human to their death and wanted to hide any part he played in it?

No.

No, it was impossible.

Their kinds _didn’t_ mingle. Gabriel would never have allowed it. After all, anyone who even crossed paths with a human had a choice of between killing or being killed. And if someone _had_ , how in the world would they have kept it quiet for so long?

As the tide rose, the eddies swirled around him and he could feel himself drifting closer to sleep. Between the chase and bearing Crowley miles across the waves, he had no energy left. He ought to have been afraid and planning, but instead, he was… tired. He was dead tired.

The waves lapped over him, cool and familiar.

A moment’s rest couldn’t hurt. Just a moment.

He was wrenched awake by a fist in his hair and jerked, sluggish, as his eyes cracked open.

“M-Michael!”

The secondary smiled thinly at him. “Yes.” She clicked her tongue. “We see you’ve been a bit of a bad merman.” Her fingers twisted harder into his hair, wrenching his head back. “You know you can’t get away from us. This is _our_ world. Did you honestly think we wouldn’t know where to find you?”

He stared at her. They couldn’t have known or they would never have let it go on, not for months.

“Did your human tell you?” he ground out.

Oh, she was very good. He might have missed the tightening in her expression, the faintest of frilling of her gills, if he hadn’t been watching for it.

“We’re not _all_ corrupted, Aziraphale,” she said gently, stroking a hand down one side of his neck. So gently that the stab of pain made him cry out. She smiled at him, withdrawing her hand and a jagged spine from his skin. Blood dripped and bloomed in the frothing water around him and – with a jerk of her fist in his hair – she yanked him off the ledge.

He tried to fight her off, swim away, but her venom had hit his bloodstream, clouding his senses, his vision darkening around the edges. She kept a grip on his hair and dived, dragging him downwards, towards the exit from the cave, dragging him mercilessly behind her.

Helpless, his body buffeted off the rocks, skin catching and tearing, scales ripping asunder. A sound of pain caught in his throat, trapped between his locked lips.

In the darkness of deep water, he could barely see, but he felt the ripple of the water around him, displaced by much larger bodies.

“Let me finish him,” Sandalphon boomed. “Traitor.”

“No.” Michael snapped. “Gabriel wants this done properly. A warning.”

Warning?

Meaty hands grabbed his limp arms from either side. “Didn’t say he had to come in undamaged,” Uriel said with gleeful malevolence on his left. She twisted his limb and if he could have, Aziraphale knew he would have screamed, but the sound died in his throat.

“Intact,” the secondary snapped again.

Uriel grudgingly loosened her grip, but Aziraphale couldn’t have wriggled free even if tried. His whole body was growing colder, numbness spreading through his limbs, and the Sentinels held him tightly enough to steer him back towards the crevasse and the depths.


	14. Chapter 14

Darkness filled the cavern.

As sensation returned to his body, Aziraphale cautiously explored his prison, a finger’s length at a time. It took him barely a moment, an arm’s span in every direction, and little more than the length of his body from bed to peak, but not long or smooth enough to even rest against the wall.

He braced his hand against the jagged rocks. His head still spun and spasms shot through him, but the numbness had started to fade. Not entirely good, since it meant every bump and scrape and bruise on his body made itself known.

The Sentinels hadn’t been gentle, despite Michael’s terse commands.

He had ricocheted off several rocks, trailing limply between their arms, before one had caught him on the head, stunning him and sending him the rest of the way into unconsciousness. A tentative press here and there found a substantial lump on his brow and his left eye felt swollen.

Part of him couldn’t help wondering why he was still in one piece.

Gabriel wanted to make an example out of him, but Gabriel couldn’t be described as a merciful sort. Imprisonment didn’t seem like his style.

Punishing him while he was unconscious would be no fun, he supposed. Not very sporting.

He inched his way around the edge of the cave until he found an if not smooth, at least less jagged section of the wall, resting his shoulder against it and needlessly closing his eyes. It eased a little of the ache stabbing from his brow at least.

It took a few moments for him to realise that the cavern wasn’t as pitch-black as he had initially thought.

A sickly glow emanated from… from…

He blinked in dazed confusion.

Crowley’s watch. They hadn’t taken it and the square screen – very like his tell-phone and eye-pad – was finely outlined in a dim white light. He lifted it to his face, peering at it, then tapped the screen. Nothing. But then the screens on Crowley’s other machines sometimes disliked the coldness.

He sucked and gently gnawed on his fingertip until it throbbed with heat, then pressed his finger to the screen again.

Words appeared on it. Not numbers. A message!

_Where are you? Wherever you are, I’ll come to you!_

Aziraphale’s throat tightened, his gills rippling, and he tapped at the screen again, but the water was too cold, too dark, and the screen winked out, taking the pale glow with it. “No,” he whispered and gnawed at his finger again, but it wasn’t enough. “No, no, no…”

But, a darker little voice whispered, that’s a good thing.

If he knew where you are, he might try and come. He might try and get himself killed in the process.

Still, Aziraphale couldn’t help stroking his thumb across the screen, grateful that at least someone cared, even if that person was classed as an enemy and a threat. They’d had a good run, hadn’t they? Several lovely turns of the moon in one another’s company? That was more than Aziraphale had had in all the long years of his life.

He shifted, settling as much as he could stand against the rock, his bruised limbs aching, and tried to gather himself, rest and calm himself for what lay ahead.

When the stone sealing the entrance shifted some time later, he dragged himself upright. If he had to be made a spectacle, better to do it with some degree of dignity, though he suspected the anxious quiver of his gills might give him away.

The light was painfully bright compared to the pitch blackness of his prison and he raised a hand to shield his eyes for a moment.

“Out!” Uriel snarled, grabbing his arm, and tore him out of the cell.

He squinted around, startled to realise he had been brought to the distant end of the crevasse. The only place more restricted than the ravine, it was deep and dark, formidably so. They knew what lived there. They knew what had to be avoided.

“I bet you didn’t see this coming.” Gabriel drifted nearby, on the lip of the drop into the inky black, Michael at his side. The primary cradled the polished white shell, the trumpet that would signal the beginning of a new war, awakening and controlling their greatest weapon.

Aziraphale’s heart curled on itself in sudden terror, the form of his doom taking shape.

Below the thunders of the upper deep, far, far beneath the abysmal sea…

If Gabriel blew that horn, it wouldn’t matter how far above the shoreline Crowley – or any other human – was. The legend spoke of the ground cracking beneath it, shaken open and boiling up, destroying everything at its master’s command.

Aziraphale lunged furiously, trying to break the grip of the Sentinels.

“What did you think was going to happen?” Gabriel said without turning. “You let a single human corrupt you. Who’s to say there won’t be more?”

Aziraphale bared his teeth, his soft fins taut with fury. “Why don’t you ask your secondary?” he snarled, twisting and jerking free of Uriel. Sandalphon moved, shark-fast pinioning Aziraphale against his broad chest with his massive arms. “Ask her!” Aziraphale gasped out. “Ask her how you found my human!”

“What’s he talking about, Michael?”

Michael turned, serene and calm. “Oh, we followed him,” she murmured. “Aziraphale led us to his human on his vessel. From there, we just kept an eye on them.”

Aziraphale stared at her, astonished at the boldness of the lie. He tried to speak, but Sandalphon squeezed tighter, crushing a cry of pain out of him as his ribs strained to breaking point. Liar. She was a liar and she had a human and would still let Gabriel blow the horn.

“Well,” Gabriel said with a dismissive shake of his head, “if you’re done with your wild hypotheticals, let’s get this over with.”

As he lifted the horn to his lips, Aziraphale froze. “Wait!”

“Not going to work this time,” Sandalphon sneered over his head.

“Boat!” Aziraphale gasped out.

The vibrations in the water felt like some kind of vessel, but… but nothing ever came near the crevasse, not for years. He tried to squirm in Sandalphon’s grip as Michael exclaimed in alarm and Gabriel lowered the horn, staring at something beyond Sandalphon’s shoulder.

The Sentinel juddered as if he had slammed into a boulder and his grip gave way.

Aziraphale shot out of his hold, a sharp thrash of his tail sending him hurtling at the unsuspecting Gabriel. He tackled the primary, wrenching the horn out of his grip, and darted out across the void, risking a panicked look over his shoulder. Wounded, he had no chance, unless there was another enemy to distract his attackers.

Though Gabriel was racing after him, Sandalphon was down, coiled in on himself and bleeding, a harpoon jutting out of his shoulder. Uriel was using him as a shield, staring warily upwards as a… a… a…

A sunken boat? A metal fish?

It bristled with sharp gleaming spikes of metal like teeth at the front and Michael dived, ducking under another hurtling harpoon.

Small and sleek and black, the vessel shot over her head, humming after Gabriel. Either he didn’t hear it or assumed it wouldn’t catch him, but it moved faster than any of their kind could, slamming hard the primary in the middle of the back, sending him spinning off course. The vessel whirled around, smooth as a fish in the floes.

And through a shining glass eye, he saw a familiar grin on a wonderfully familiar face. Pink fingers waggled in a wave.

Aziraphale gave a shout of relief and delight, darting towards it as much as his battered body would allow. The boat-fish had handles on the side – or perhaps steps for human feet – and he grabbed one of them, knocking hard on the metal shell.

The boat-fish surged forward, faster still, and he clung on with all his might, his other hand clinging fast to the horn. The currents tore at him, bashing him against the side of the vessel, but he didn’t care. The crevasse was falling away behind them, lost in a whirling wake of bubbles. The shoal were left behind and Crowley…

Crowley had come back for him.


	15. Chapter 15

Aziraphale had no idea how he managed to hold on.

The little metal vessel whisked him through the waves, faster than he’d ever swum and his arms were shaking with the effort of holding on to both the hand-grip and the horn, which was far, far too dangerous and valuable to abandon.

He grit his teeth, clinging on for dear life, and had never been more relieved when Crowley brought them up to the surface in a small bay, sheltered from prying eyes and flanked by jagged seawalls. Defensible, he thought wearily, uncurling aching fingers and slipping down to droop on the swell of the waves.

Above him, metal and air hissed and he vaguely registered the clatter before the splash, water rushing over him, displaced by the human who had jumped into the sea beside him.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley paddled to his side, touching Aziraphale’s face so gently that he flinched in surprise. “Those bastards!” The human hissed. “What the hell have they done to you?”

He wanted to speak, but all he could think on was how very warm Crowley’s hand was on his skin. Crowley looped his arms around him gently and somehow managed to move them back, hauling Aziraphale into the shallows, until they were both sprawled on the shingle, the rolling waves curling over them.

Crowley scrambled to his knees, pressing his palm to Aziraphale’s cheek again. “Are you all right?” he demanded urgently. “I don’t know anything about mer… whatever anatomy. You look like someone chucked you down a cliff or six! Is– what– how can I help?”

With effort, Aziraphale managed to open his eyes, the light so bright he squinted, and Crowley above him, haloed brightly, his hair like flames.

“You came back for me,” he murmured wonderingly.

“Course I did, you idiot!”

“But I never told you.”

Crowley squeezed his wrist and the watch around it “Why’d’you think I gave you this? Wasn’t just a souvenir, angel. Can use it to find things.” He slid his hand up to Aziraphale’s hand and squeezed that too. “Like a signal that says ‘Angel here, come and get him’.”

Aziraphale laughed, then winced as his ribs _ached_. “Oh…” He touched them gingerly. “I ought to thank you–”

“Don’t say that,” Crowley blurted out. “Christ’s sake, angel, you saved my life, went against your own and they did _this_ because of me. You don’t have anything to thank me for!”

“No.” Blindly, Aziraphale clutched at his hand. “I do. You came back for me.” He lifted Crowley’s hand onto his chest, pressing the back of it over his heart. “Thank you.”

Crowley flushed beautifully in the hazy sunlight. “Ngh!” He groaned, looking anywhere but Aziraphale. “You too, then. S’only fair. Thank _you_ for saving me.” He slanted a look at Aziraphale, then to the merman’s surprised, leaned down over him, pressing his lips to Aziraphale’s, quick and soft, gifting him a little of his breath.

“O-oh.” The human’s hand wasn’t the only warmth Aziraphale could feel. “What… what is that?”

Crowley searched his face. “That’s what humans do when they like– when they– when they love each other.”

“Love?” Aziraphale echoed.

Crowley rocked, swaying from side to side on his knees. “S’like….” He flushed redder and redder. “Like when you choose a mate. Someone who’s yours and you’re theirs and you take care of each other and…” He trailed off as Aziraphale leaned up, staring at him.

“You… love me?”

Crowley huffed and sputtered, even his ears bright red.

Aziraphale gazed at him searchingly, then reached up and drew Crowley’s face back down to his. When their lips touched this time, it felt… different. Better. Like the prickle in the air when a storm was coming. He opened his lips, offering Crowley a little of his own breath.

No wonder this was how humans showed their affection, giving and receiving of air.

Crowley made a small, urgent sound and all at once his fingers were in Aziraphale’s hair. And – and he _licked_ Aziraphale’s mouth. Oh that was… new. That was _interesting_ , but he yelped when Crowley leaned too heavily against him and the human jolted back, as if stung, hands up and away.

“No, no,” Aziraphale shuffled into his right side, easing the pressure on his left. “Only my ribs. Not you. Not…” His heart did some little peculiar jump in his chest. “No, just my ribs.”

Crowley nodded. “You’re black and blue,” he murmured, brushing gentle fingers along Aziraphale’s sides. “Do you– is there medicine? Anything to stop the pain? Fix it?”

“A little time,” Aziraphale demurred. “They were a little rough-handed.”

“I didn’t like that big one,” Crowley said, stroking his side so gently it made delightful shivers run through Aziraphale’s body. “The one that was holding you? He’s a nasty bastard.”

Aziraphale laughed unsteadily. “He is rather.” He met the human’s eyes. “You shot him?”

“Only in the shoulder,” Crowley said hastily, as if afraid of doing any harm.

“Shame.” He lifted his other hand out of the water, turning over the polished shell horn. “At least we have a little leverage now.”

“We do?” Crowley eyed the shell. “What _is_ that anyway? Looks a bit like a conch, but we don’t get them in these waters.”

Aziraphale offered it to him, watching as Crowley turning it over in his hands, examining it. “It’s the horn to awaken it.”

“Awaken what?”

Aziraphale shivered. The name went unsaid, as if that might be enough without the horn. “The… you know. Big bugger. The one that’s meant to rise up and make the sea boil?” He eyed the human. “You _have_ heard of it, haven’t you? It’s famous below for destroying human ships hundreds of years ago.”

“The krak–”

Aziraphale lunged up, clamping his hand over Crowley’s mouth. “Don’t _say_ it!”

“Muh his ngot eal.”

“What was that?” He lowered his hand.

“It’s not real. Mythological, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Oh, it’s down there and I’ve heard it’s _very_ grumpy when it gets woken up.” And Crowley was gaping at him as if he had said something ridiculous, like the moon was made of cheese. “What on earth are you making that face for?”

“It’s real? It’s _actually_ real?” Crowley held up the horn. “And we have its alarm clock?”

Aziraphale frowned, puzzled. “It’s a _horn_ , my dear.”

“Yeah, but it’s for waking it up?”

“And,” Aziraphale added significantly, “controlling it.”

Crowley opened and shut his mouth several times. “And _we_ have it. You _stole_ it off them.”

Aziraphale beamed at him. “ _We_ did. And, if I’m right, I can use it to get them to leave us alone indefinitely.”

“Oh,” Crowley breathed, adoration rife all over his face, “You wonderful bastard.”


	16. Chapter 16

“Are you certain this is necessary?” Aziraphale inquired, his arms braced on the back of the boat. “I mean, surely your word is enough?”

Crowley laughed. “You’d think so,” he said, “but for some reason, Ligur considers me…” He hissed through his teeth. “What was it he said? ‘Slippery as a snake’? ‘What kind of world would it be if crooks went around _trusting_ each other’? Something like that.”

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose. “Yes, but this seems all a little… theatrical.”

“It’ll work,” Crowley insisted squatting down and dropping a kiss on the end of Aziraphale’s nose.

Despite his initial bewilderment, Aziraphale was growing rather partial to kisses. Exchanges of breath were only the beginning and every new press of lips to different parts of his body produced the most delightful reactions. He surged up out of the water, braced on his hands, and claimed a true kiss.

“That!” Crowley exclaimed, when he dropped back down into the water. “I mean… how can we _not_ use that to our advantage?”

Aziraphale’s gills frilled happily as he sank back to his chin in the water.

It seemed that Crowley found his physical prowess quite thrilling.

He remembered Aziraphale’s chain, it transpired. He had seen Aziraphale bearing it and – while warm and giddy with wine from celebrating their escape – had waxed lyrical about exactly how strong a creature would have to be to carry two solid links of metal that were easily the length of his own torso.

When everything was all tidied up and they could lower their guard a little, he made a note to lift Crowley properly, simply to see the look on his face.

Speaking of which…

“There’s a boat coming,” he said.

Crowley flapped a hand. “Hide behind the hull!”

Aziraphale dipped back under the water, hiding himself between Crowley’s boat and the curve of the sea wall at the edge of the lagoon. They’d returned to their usual haunt. Crowley had insisted. It was easier and safer than giving away their current hiding place.

At least the approaching boat was small. It certainly sounded like the one Ligur had arrived on when he had last visited.

The merman surfaced, bracing his hand against the edge of the hull as the second boat drew to a halt alongside Crowley’s.

“Crowley.”

“Hello, Ligur. Good to see you.”

The other man was silent for a moment. “You do that job we sent you on?”

Crowley sat down on the rail above Aziraphale. “Oh, I think we both know I didn’t. Met some _lovely_ people though. Very good swimmers.” He rustled something and held up the horn. “Though I did pick up a bit of a souvenir.”

Aziraphale risked peeping over the edge of the rail, under Crowley’s arm.

Ligur looked unwell, staring at the horn. “I don’t think you know what you have there.”

Crowley straightened up and Aziraphale could hear the amusement in his voice. “Oh, but I do, and it looks like you do too.” That was the cue and Aziraphale dived under the hull of the boat, darting under Ligur’s as well. He popped up on the far side in time to hear Crowley say, “–came home with a new friend too.”

“New–”

Aziraphale slid under, gripping the bottom of the boat and – with all his strength – tilted it.

The sound of a body hitting the water told him he’d been successful and dropped the boat, whipping under it to grab the submerged man and pull him down by his ankles. To his credit, Ligur fought back, but Aziraphale wrapped both arms around his ribs and held him until his struggles weakened.

Only then did Aziraphale drag him back to the surface.

Ligur gasped and spluttered as they broke through the water.

Crowley grinned down at them, crouched on the backboard of his boat. “Did you know she was going to let you hang, your fishy friend?” He waggled the horn. “They were all set to blow this. And, from what I understand, it would’ve been messy.”

“Bollocks!” Ligur rasped out. “Got a deal.”

Crowley screwed up his face. “Weeeeeeeell, that’s all well and good, but you’re a human and they were about to declare war on us.”

“They were going to unleash it,” Aziraphale said, low and dark, close to his ear.

“Fuck!” Ligur sputtered. “It talks!”

Crowley snorted. “Yeah. I got the best of the lot, didn’t I?” He cocked his head. “What did yours do?”

Ligur tensed up mutinously, but a _squeeze_ from Aziraphale was enough to make him choke. “Writing! Centuries back! My old man’s great, great gran or some bollocks! Taught her! Pulled her out a wreck.” He hissed sharply. “Know your enemy, she always said.”

Crowley’s teeth gleamed white in the sun. “And here we are.” He casually tossed the horn up and down in his hand. “You know what this is.” Ligur didn’t need to answer. “Did they tell you they were about to use it? Send their nuclear weapon crashing down on us all? Aziraphale here knobbled them, but I don’t think they were too happy about it.”

“What’s that got to do with me?” Ligur snarled.

“You mean you would be happy that she let you be destroyed along with all you hold dear?” Aziraphale asked. “After all, you’re a human. The enemy of my people. What did you think would happen, if they woke it?” He tutted sadly. “Honestly, Crowley said you were quite intelligent.”

Ligur twisted, trying to glare at him. He bared his teeth, then turned his glower back to Crowley. “So what are you proposing?”

“Leverage,” Crowley replied cheerfully, swinging his legs around to sit, feet dangling in the water. “I’m out of Hellfire. For good this time. You’re going to let them know it.”

“Yeah? Or _what_?”

Aziraphale couldn’t help admire how Crowley’s eyes flashed liquid gold in the sun. “Or we toot this horn and get a little beastie to clear out a certain crevasse.” He clicked his tongue. “It’d be a bit of a bugger for you, wouldn’t it? Cut off your supply line? I mean, you obviously worked out where my gold came from. Don’t imagine she kept you on-side with good will alone.”

“You’re bluffing,” Ligur growled.

“Or,” Aziraphale murmured against his ear, “we throw you into their waters, as you did to Crowley. I’m sure they’re intelligent enough to recognise a friend.” He sighed, trying not to smile. “But then… all humans _do_ look alike and they were just bested by one.”

“They’d _kill_ me!” Ligur snapped.

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed cheerfully, “probably. Which brings us to the point.” He leaned forward and stare Ligur in the eye. “This is what’s going to happen: you’re going to contact the people you need to. Aziraphale and I are going to bugger off to our own private island. The horn goes with us. If anything happens to either of us, if anything harms us or comes after us, we’ll make it so the horn is blown and that _thing_ is unleashed.”

“You’d destroy everything?” Ligur echoed in disbelief.

“Mutually-assured destruction,” Crowley retorted.

Aziraphale slowly squeezed his arms inwards until Ligur gasped hoarsely. “I think it’s better if we were left alone in future,” he murmured, “don’t you?”


	17. Chapter 17

The stars were quite lovely and Aziraphale said as much to Crowley.

“Told you,” Crowley said happily, his arm tucked around Aziraphale’s shoulders as they lay on the sand, gazing up at the cosmos. It wasn’t the first time they had exchanged such sentiments, but all the same, Aziraphale liked to say it and Crowley liked to reply.

Many a night, they simply enjoyed the moonlight on the water and the soft smear of the Milky way across the deep blue of the sky. Crowley sometimes brought a smaller version of his telescope out and pointed out specific stars and planets.

He had a larger telescope too.

In fact, he had a rather lovely observatory on top of the house, where he kept all kinds of gadgets and indulged in his love of stargazing.

Aziraphale had been astonished to learn precisely what a cache of gold bars could achieve.

It transpired that Crowley had taken the blocks of yellow metal and – by some kind of miracle – had not simply bought the land and the lovely beach where they picnicked, but had also arranged for a _house_ to be built. A real human house with windows and doors and – of course – Crowley’s observatory on top.

Thinking of which…

“You’re getting cold, darling,” he murmured.

Crowley made a face. “Next time, I bring a blanket out.” He exhaled a puff of condensation. “But it is a bit chilly. Inside?”

Aziraphale beamed. “Of course. Would you like a lift in?”

“Obviously.” Crowley rolled to his feet. “Hop on!”

Though it wasn’t the most graceful means of getting about, the little sledge they kept on the beach worked a treat to get Aziraphale from their position at the high tide line down to the water’s edge. He slid off and into the waves, pushing himself outwards as Crowley dashed back up the beach to stow the sledge. He laughed as Crowley ran back down the beach and into the water after him, yelling all kinds of rude words about how cold it was.

“Fuss, fuss, fuss,” Aziraphale said fondly, rolling onto his belly so Crowley could cling onto his shoulders.

“Shaddup.” Crowley bit him fondly on the ear. “I’m gonna have to jump in the pool at this rate.”

Aziraphale’s heart skipped. “Oh?” He hoped he sounded innocently interested, but when Crowley nibbled his ear again and made his gills ripple, he knew he was entirely compromised. “You really are a tempter of the worst order!”

“You love it,” Crowley laughed, clinging on as Aziraphale flicked his tail and drove them through the surf.

It wasn’t far at all, the far end of the beach now officially – technically – Crowley’s research laboratory.

The building itself had been carefully built over a miniature lagoon, which served a place for Crowley to keep his boat-fish – ‘ _submarine_ , angel!’ – but also as an entrance for someone who might need to swim in rather than use the door.

Lights illuminated as soon as they swam through the main doors, brightening the lower level of the building. For the most part, it could probably have passed muster as a scientific laboratory, given what Aziraphale had seen in tele-visual shows.

A great glass tank took up a large part of the floor space, deeper than he was tall and easily eight lengths of his body from one end to the other. Further up, there were workbenches and all kinds of fascinating scientific equipment. It all looked very professional.

Except for the extensive bookshelves that ran the breadth of the wall beside the tank and the plush couch that stood on a platform right beside it.

Aziraphale gently shrugged Crowley’s hands from his shoulders as they neared the small jetty, the tide high enough that he didn’t need to bother setting him by the ladder. Instead, he caught him around the waist and hoisted him up, delighting in the breathless little sound the human made.

“Bet you could throw me into the pool from there if you wanted to,” Crowley said, scrambling to his feet, his teeth already chattering. He pulled on the length of rope dangling from the miniature zipline on the ceiling, dragging it over to the water’s edge. “D’you wanna–”

“Get up to the pool, darling.” Aziraphale caught the rope between his hands. “I’ll meet you there.”

Crowley nodded, running up the curving ramp that would take him to the lip of the tank, as Aziraphale wrapped hand over hand around the rope and hauled himself up out of the water. It was far more dignified than squirming up the ramp. Sliding down was perfectly fine, but a line had to be drawn somewhere.

And it also meant he got to see Crowley’s hungry, appreciative stare as – dripping and muscles swelling – he climb three times his height up the rope using arms alone.

With an easy swing, he unhitched the line and slid across the gap between their sea-made harbour and their self-made pool, lowering himself down into the water with the same casual strength as he had ascended.

And, yes, Crowley was standing on the edge of the pool, staring rapturously.

“Quite the show?” Aziraphale asked innocently.

“Never gets old,” Crowley replied with a grin. “Not too warm for you?”

Aziraphale swam over to him. “Perfectly fine,” he replied, curling his fingers over the edge of the tank. They refilled the pool daily, but it was always warmed to a level both of them could tolerate. “You’ll be joining me?”

In answer, Crowley peeled off his t-shirt and shorts, throwing them aside with a damp splat. He sat, slipping his legs between Aziraphale’s hands and leaned down in invitation. Aziraphale surged up, claiming a kiss. He wrapped one hand around the back of Crowley’s head and, smiling, launched himself backwards, pulling his human into the pool with him.

Crowley’s skinny arms wrapped around him, as he drank in the offered breath.

Without the fear of the hunt or the chase or the pressure of the deep, it didn’t hurt at all to offer it, and Aziraphale had learned all kinds of lovely uses for it.

For example, it meant he could bear his lover to the bottom of the pool, laying him out on the makeshift sandy bed, Crowley’s lovely copper-flecked arms and legs wrapping around him. He could brace him there with his own body, his free hand curving over Crowley’s hip to bring them flush against each other.

Perhaps there were certain… mismatches with their anatomy, but that didn’t mean there were plenty of ways for them to enjoy each other, clouding up the waters of the pool as they touched and tasted and lost themselves in one another.

Much, much later, when the silt had settled and the water was clear once more, Aziraphale hummed happily, stroking a hand down Crowley’s back. His human was sprawled, loose-limbed and warm and naked, over his body as the merman drifted gently on his back on the surface of the pool.

“Darling.”

“Ngh?”

Aziraphale fought down a smile. There was something to be said for reducing such a talkative person to non-words. “Do we have any of those lovely little muffins left?”

With effort, Crowley lifted his head and glowered. “I was _basking_ , angel,” he whined, though his lips were twitching. “You know I love a good bask! Especially after you wear me out.”

“Yes, well that’s lovely,” Aziraphale consoled him, “but you _do_ have the legs and my grabby-stick doesn’t reach quite that far.”

Crowley grumbled, nuzzling back against Aziraphale’s neck. “M’upgrading the kitchen. Can get your own bloody snacks. Get the fridge to throw them at you. An’ a robot. Lil robot thingie. Butler-robot thingie. Bring you stuff.”

Aziraphale gave him a happy squeeze. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

Crowley peeked up at him and smiled. “For you? Nah.” He dropped a kiss on the merman’s lips. “Worth every second.”

And as he lifted his human out of the water, setting him up on the ledge, Aziraphale knew he felt exactly the same way.

**Author's Note:**

> And so it begins! :D
> 
> You can find both of us on tumblr: [Fyre](https://amuseoffyre.tumblr.com/) and [Apocalypsenah](https://apocalypsenah.tumblr.com/)


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